The Karma Club
by fourthfireshadow
Summary: Good deeds are rewarded while bad deeds are punished. Good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. That's just how Karma works. Well, at least that's how I thought it worked. But that was before I entered the second half of my senior year. When everything changed.
1. The Hunky Dough Boy

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter**_ 1_**- The**_ Hunky_ **Dough**_ Boy_

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_My phone seems _to be ringing louder than usual today. And there's a certain urgency in its tone that makes this incoming call somehow sound more important than most.

I stare at it for a moment and then quickly decide to ignore the call. I'm in the middle of studying for a very important European history test and I really don't want to be bothered.

The phone rings again.

I don't need to look at the caller ID to know that it's Ino who's being so freaking persistent. My friends all have their own ring tones. Ino's happens to be a very popular hip-hop song that she insists she started liking way before everyone else did. Personally, I think she just doesn't want to admit that she's in any way "mainstream." It would damage that subtle counterculture reputation she's spent so long perfecting.

Either way, I think this particular song lost its appeal after about twelve rings. And given the fact that Ino calls me at least sixteen times a day, I am now officially sick of it.

I ignore Ino's call again and continue reading about the storming of the Bastille. Whatever is _so _important can at least wait until King Louis XVI gets his head chopped off.

The phone rings a third time.

Finally, I groan and pick it up. "What, Ino-pig?"

Normally, Ino would berate me for my unfriendly greeting, but this afternoon, apparently, she has bigger things to worry about than my tone. "Forehead, get down to the flower shop _now_."

"I can't. I'm studying for my history test," I say, slightly annoyed.

"Drop everything and get your butt down here," she practically growls into the phone. "I promise, it's more exciting than the French Revolution."

"Yeah, like that's hard," I reply sarcastically.

"Just come." And with that she hangs up the phone.

Ino has been my best friend since the third grade. She probably knows me better than anyone else in my life. For instance, she knows that, right now, I'll sulk around my room for the next few minutes debating about whether or not I really want to give in to her demands. Then I'll eventually close my textbook with a scowl, slip on my shoes, and drive the twelve blocks to the Yamanaka Flower Shop, where she works quarter-time as a cashier. I say _quarter_-time instead of part-time, because although it is a part-time job, she spends only half of the time working and the other half reading magazines from the rack next to the register.

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I pull into the store parking lot exactly nine minutes later, and I know she'll be patting herself on the back when I walk through the door, incredibly proud of her ability to clock my decision-making process down to the minute.

I trudge into the empty store and approach the register, where she's flipping through the new January issue of _Contempo Girl_, our mutually favorite magazine. Although we have completely different reasons for liking it. She, as far as I can tell, enjoys reading the sections about the new fashion trends, latest celebrity gossip, and relationship advice, while I just like reading it so I can have a replenishing supply of people and products to criticize.

"What's so important you couldn't just tell me on the phone?"

Ino-pig looks up and, without even so much as a hello, shoves the magazine into my hands. I manage to catch it just before it falls to the floor.

"Turn to page thirty-five." She practically squeals.

I shift my weight onto one foot and, with a frustrated sigh, open the now crumpled magazine. As I flick brusquely through the pages, I say, "You know, this history test tomorrow is my only chance to bring my B up to an A and I don't really appreciate the fact that you dragged me down here just to gripe about whatever—" I stop suddenly with a gasp when I see the page in front of me.

The pig watches me with a satisfied I-told-you-so grin on her face.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim as I stare down at the page in disbelief. "They published it?"

She nods excitedly. "Yes!"

"They _actually _published it?" I still can't seem to wrap my head around what I'm seeing in front of me.

"I told you it was more exciting than the French Revolution."

I fold over the front half of the magazine and bring it closer to my face so I can study the paragraph-long block of text that takes up approximately one fifth of the page. Above it is the name KIBA INUZUKA printed in large, bold letters, and right next to that is a picture of my boyfriend. Yes, _my _boyfriend, in _Contempo_ _Girl _magazine for all to see!

I submitted his picture to the magazine's monthly "Meet My Boyfriend" competition. But that was like six months ago. And after three months of running to the store the minute the latest issue was released to see if they had chosen my submission, I pretty much gave up on the whole thing.

You see, each month they pick only five guys to feature. Kiba is our senior class president, just recently scored a 2350 on his SATs, is one of the best players on our varsity soccer team, _and _he already has an early acceptance letter to Konoha College for next year. Plus, I think he's hot. Like really hot. I know I'm biased and everything, but he's got these incredible chocolate brown eyes and long dark lashes. His skin is olive colored, and the hair on his head is dark and thick, really good for running your fingers through.

Anyway, I know the fact that he's hot and an amazing soccer player _and _manages to juggle being class president is really impressive. I mean, personally I'm impressed by him every day. But I never thought in a million years that _Contempo Girl _would actually pick him.

Well, maybe I've had a few fleeting fantasies about it. Something along the lines of Kiba's picture gets selected, everyone at the school sees it, I experience one of those insta-popularities that only happens in cheesy teen movies and maybe even score a nomination for prom queen. My clothes magically become more trendy (either because I suddenly know how to pick out trendy clothes or because everyone simply idolizes anything I wear and so it doesn't even matter), and just like that, Kiba and I become the most popular couple at Konoha High.

However, this is far more exciting than anything I ever imagined. Not to mention totally surreal.

"Read it aloud," Ino insists. "It's a really good article."

I grasp the magazine tightly and begin reading from the page. "Kiba Inuzuka, senior at Konoha High School in Konoha, Japan, has been hopelessly devoted to his girlfriend, Sakura Haruno, since sophomore year." I stop reading and look up at Ino with a dopey smile on my face. "That's me!"

"I know." She rolls her eyes. "Keep reading."

I drop my head back down and pick up where I left off. "In a graduating class of just over four hundred students, they didn't meet until both of them decided to take jobs working as counselors at a local summer camp. They have been together ever since. 'He's so sweet to me,' says Sakura, age seventeen. 'He always knows when I'm in a bad mood or not having a good day and shows up at my door with my favorite candy: Chewy Runts. They're really hard to find sometimes. They don't sell them everywhere. But somehow he always manages to find them. Like he has a Chewy Runts Locating Device hidden in his closet or something.' "

I look up again. "Yeah, I wrote that! I really did!" I beam.

"I know," Ino replies again. "You only made me read the letter like fifty times before you sent it."

"It's funny, right? Do you think it's funny?" I ask, suddenly paranoid about everyone in the world reading these lines and thinking I'm totally lame for saying "Chewy Runts Locating Device."

"Yes," Ino grudgingly reassures me. "It's funny. It was funny when you wrote it. It's still funny now."

Somewhat satisfied, I turn back to the magazine. "When Kiba Inuzuka isn't spending time with his smitten, sweet-toothed girlfriend, he fulfills his duties as senior class president and a part-time chef at a local pizzeria. But don't get too floured by this hunky dough boy, ladies. Kiba and Sakura have already made plans to attend the same college after graduation. It sounds like this perfect pairing was made to last."

I stand in complete astonishment as I try to grasp everything that has happened in the last five minutes.

My boyfriend, Kiba Inuzuka, featured in _Contempo Girl _magazine! They even called him a "hunky dough boy." Well, yeah, it's a bit cheesy, but so what? This is _huge_! Every girl in the country is going to see this. Every girl in the country is going to be pining after _my _boyfriend.

Suddenly, I hear a high-pitched, overly excited shriek coming from the direction of the drugstore's front entrance and I realize that I wasn't the only person Ino called with the news.

"Where is it? Let me see it. How does he look? Oh my God, this is so exciting!"

Ino and I turn to see our other best friend, Tenten , running into the store, completely red faced, her hair slipping out of the two hair buns, chocolate brown hair flipping wildly behind her. She scurries over to the register and tries to grab the magazine from my tightly grasping fingers. "Lemme see!" she yells.

I pass the magazine to Tenten and watch intently as her face lights up like a Christmas tree and her eyes skim the article.

Her head pops up. "They quoted you!"

My beaming grin never falters. "I know."

"That's so cool," she muses as she continues reading. I watch her face for further reaction, and then finally she cracks up laughing. " 'Chewy Runts Locating Device.' That's hilarious."

"You think?" I ask again.

Tenten nods with decisiveness. "Definitely funny."

Ino shakes her head at us and turns to help a customer who has just appeared at the register. Jade and I instinctively step a few feet away to spare the stranger the agony of listening to our intrusively loud, girlie shrieks.

"But Kiba doesn't work at the pizza place anymore," Tenten points out.

I simply shrug. "He did when I sent in his picture. But I doubt it matters."

In fact, Kiba quit his job at Konoha Pizzeria after only six months of working there. And honestly, I'm not really sure why he needed the extra money to begin with—his parents basically pay for everything he wants anyway.

Tenten finishes the article, then looks at me in amazement. "Wow."

I take the magazine back from her and hold it tightly in my grasp, as if dropping it would cause the whole thing to shatter into a million pieces and I might actually wake up from this crazy dream. Ino finishes helping the older lady with her purchase of a bag of sunflower seeds and a huge bouquet of azaleas and steps out from behind the counter to join us.

I look at Ino. "Hey, where's Hinata? Didn't you call her?" she had to know about this too. She was our other best friend, officially rounding up our quartet.

"Of course I called her, but she was handling her dad about something." Ino rolls her eyes. "You know how her old man is." Everyone knew how impossible her dad was at times.

Tenten affectionately puts an arm around my shoulder. "This is big." She sums up my feelings in three little words.

I gaze absently straight ahead. "I don't even know what to do with myself."

Ino laughs and shakes her head. "Well, Forehead," she says in a serious tone. "The first thing you're gonna do is buy that magazine because, honestly, you've already crumpled it all up with your sweaty fingers and it's completely unsellable now."

Tenten continued, " Yeah. And then you're going to go home and study for your European history test because, believe it or not, Mrs. Kurenai is not going to take this"—she taps her finger against the magazine—"as an acceptable excuse for not knowing about Marie Antoinette and Louis the Thirty second."

"Sixteenth," I correct her.

"Whatever. They're all ugly with big noses. Louis le Grande Schnoz is more like it."

I giggle. Tenten's one of those people that can always be counted on to stay calm and rational during any time of crisis or extreme excitement. If she had been on the _Titanic _when it started to sink, she definitely would not have been one of those women screaming and running around like headless chickens. She would have been one of the people organizing everyone else and telling them to shut up and get on the flipping lifeboat because screaming is clearly not going to get you anywhere . . . except the bottom of the ocean.

I reach into the pocket of my jeans and produce a few dollar bills, which I hand over to Ino. She walks back to the register, rings up the slightly mangled magazine, and holds out my change. "Thanks for shopping at Yamanaka's," she says brightly and with only a hint of sarcasm.

I say goodbye to both my friends, mumbling something about my test, and then drive back to my house in somewhat of a daze. I immediately make a plan to go back to the store tomorrow to buy at least twenty copies of the magazine.

Or however many my diminished bank account will allow. Because this is definitely the kind of thing you'd want to be able to show your grandchildren when you—Crap! I have to call Kiba. He doesn't even know that his face is plastered in magazines across the country, dressed in his sauce-stained Konoha Pizza apron with a smudge of flour on his left cheek.

I chose that specific picture, as opposed to the generic shirtless picture that I'm sure every girl chooses, because I thought it made him look humble and down-to-earth and really captured his whole Kiba essence.

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I'm totally anxious to get home and whip out my cell phone. My dad has lectured me way too many times about the law in Konoha that prohibits anyone from using a cell phone while driving, unless it's with a headset. But if you're under eighteen, you can't even do that. And not wanting to risk losing my cell phone _or _my driving privileges, I always wait—rather impatiently, I might add—until I get to my destination before making or taking any calls. This can get really annoying with Ino's habit of calling repeatedly until I pick up.

I press the first speed-dial button and wait for Kiba to answer. It goes straight to voice mail. Oh, right. I forgot he's still at soccer practice.

I am tempted to drive over to the soccer field and wait for him to finish practice so I can show him the article, but I know that my history book is waiting for me upstairs, and I _cannot _fail this test tomorrow. I need to keep my GPA up if I am ever going to be accepted to Konoha College with Kiba.

So I drag myself into the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. As I settle back into more reading about the French's love of the guillotine and the forming of the National Assembly, my phone rings again.

It was Ino-pig again, and I answer it using the justification that the French Revolution happened like hundreds of years ago and all this stuff is happening right now. And isn't everyone always telling us to live in the now?

"Oh freakin' hell," she says breathlessly as soon as I answer. "I just realized what this whole magazine article thing means."

"What?"

"It means we'll finally be able to get into the _Loft_." She pronounces the word _Loft _in a loud whisper, as if it's the location of a top secret CIA drop point where confidential information is going to be exchanged at 0900 hours.

"You think? All because of this?" I ask, feeling skeptical.

"Of course!" Ino yells in my ear. "Hello? Kiba is going to be like the most popular guy in school after this. And since you're his girlfriend and _we're _your friends, we'll totally get in."

The infamous "Loft" that Ino-pig is referring to is actually a condo in the Upper side Konoha that Sasuke Uchiha's parents own but rarely use because they're constantly traveling to much more glamorous places around the world. Apparently our little town just northeast of Konoha isn't exciting enough for them to stay put for longer than two weeks at a time. This means that Sasuke, and sometimes his older brother (but he's often out) is often left alone with his brand-new BMW, a credit card with no limit, and most important, the keys to the Loft.

Sasuke Uchiha is infamous for three things:

a. being the richest kid in school

b. being the hottest guy in school (or the city)

c. being the most stuck-up.

I've never actually had a conversation with him (and honestly, I'm not sure if I'd ever want to), but from what I've heard, he's totally one of those guys who thinks he's better than everyone else because his parents have money. In seventh grade, it was rumored he paid his English teacher fifteen thousand dollars to change his grade from a C to a B. Honestly, I think that's just bad business sense. If you're going to pay someone that much money to change your grade, at least make it an A.

I've also heard that the guy is hot as hell—this I hear from the schools resident girls—hookers. And when I did catch a glimpse of him, I had to admit that it _is_ true. Hot doesn't even begin to cover it. But I bet he's one of those guys who use his looks to get everything.

Anyway, Sasuke began hosting parties at the Loft at the beginning of last year, and it quickly became the place to be and be seen for Konoha High. Everyone who's anyone is at the Loft parties. People like Ami Watanabe, the most popular girl at our high school; her best friend, Karin Hiiragizawa, who also happens to be Sasuke's current girlfriend; and anyone that Ami and Karin deem worthy to hang out with them.

Up until now, my friends and I have never gone. We've only _heard _about how fabulous it is. Because it's not the kind of party you can just show up to. There's a list somewhere that indicates who is allowed in. Everyone else is turned away at the door. Unfortunately, we have yet to make it on that list.

I'm not exactly sure who controls or maintains this list, but its existence is undeniable. And I know this because we tried to attend this notorious party at the end of last year, after Kiba won the election for senior class president, but we were harshly denied entry. It was a blow to the ego that I'd just as soon forget.

Ino had insisted that Kiba's victory and my association with that victory as not only his girlfriend but also his campaign manager would assure us entrance. But apparently school politics don't play a huge role in the popularity game at our school.

JFK probably wouldn't have gotten into the Loft either.

"I don't know," I tell Ino hesitantly. "If they don't let us in, I really don't want to go through that humiliation again."

"Impossible," she insists. "As long as Kiba is invited, which he totally will be once word of this article spreads, we're golden."

When I hang up the phone and try to refocus on my history book, my mind can't help but drift back to what Ino just said. Could we really get into the Loft party just because of a stupid magazine article?

Maybe my fantasy wasn't that far off after all. Maybe this one little article _would _make us the most popular couple in school. Maybe Ami Watanabe would eventually start calling _me _up for advice about the new spring fashions and where she should go to get her nails done and how to snag a boyfriend as wonderful as Kiba. I really wouldn't blame her. I mean, I'm pretty much a published magazine writer now.

Who wouldn't want advice from someone whose words are in _Contempo Girl _magazine?

Suddenly, the French Revolution seems trivial compared to my own rise to the throne, and I abandon my textbook and wander into my closet, determined to pick out the trendiest looking outfit I own for tomorrow.

Tomorrow's going to be different. I can feel it.

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	2. The Ami Watanabe of Konoha High

_**Disclaimer-**__ I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there. _

_**Pairing-**__SasuSaku(main) _

_**note-**__ okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!_

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_2-_** The **_Ami_** Watanabe **_of _**Konoha **_High_

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_All my life _I've wanted to be popular.

I don't know where the obsession came from, but from the time I was a little girl, the life of the high school "it" crowd always seemed more glamorous than anything else I could ever imagine.

Then in the sixth grade, I met Ami Watanabe, and from the moment I saw her, I knew I wanted to be like her.

Her hair and teeth were perfectly straight, her makeup looked like she'd just walked away from the M.A.C counter after a full-on demonstration, and her clothes were something straight out of a fashion magazine. She was just beautiful, in every sense of the word.

Over the years, I've come to realize that in every single high school, in every single state in the country, there is always an Ami Watanabe. The girl who is simply born with the popular gene . . . and _jeans_, for that matter.

My mom often tries to comfort me by saying that girls like Ami Watanabe tend to peak early in life and then quickly fade. That's why she looks so much better than everyone now. But by the time I go to my ten-year reunion, I'll be way prettier than she is.

To which I always reply with the same statement, "I don't want to be pretty in ten years. I want to be pretty now."

Because what good is it to me now that I _might _or might not be drop-dead gorgeous when I'm twenty seven? It's not like I can go to school every day with a big cardboard sign around my neck that says, "Trust me, in ten years, I'll look like this." And then an arrow pointing to a picture of a supermodel.

Ami Watanabe is simply a goddess, and I can't imagine her being anything less . . . at any age. She has silky, long dark hair that shimmers purple when the light hits (and it doesn't even look _weird!_), perfectly bronzed skin. Like her mother gave birth to her inside a tanning bed or something and silver-grey eyes.

And I'm pretty sure she's not a virgin. Not by at least a couple times over.

I, on the other hand, _am _still a virgin. I know, I've been dating Kiba for two years, so what on earth am I waiting for, right? Well, I'm not exactly sure what I'm waiting for. I guess for it to just feel "right." And up until now, it really hasn't. Maybe I'll feel different once we get to Konoha College next year and I know there's not a parental figure sitting in the next room.

In fact, Ino is the only one in our group who actually _has _lost her virginity. Tenten came close last year, with her then boyfriend, Hidan, but ever since the awful thing he did to her afterward, we try not to talk about it too often.

Hinata is like me. Waiting for Mr. Right, she wants to wait until marriage, which I think is truly noble and truly hard. But I think part of the 'waiting until marriage' thing is because of her father. If her old man ever came to know about her with a guy, he'd probably explode.

My friends don't approve of my obsession with Ami. They think it's juvenile and immature. Ino-pig says Ami's a bimbo and a waste of good skin cells. Hinata says I should just be my own, unique beautiful self and not worry what other people are wearing or doing or who they're having sex with. Tenten says I should just shut up and get over it. And Kiba says my energy would be better spent elsewhere since he doubts Ami has ever had one intelligent thing to say in her entire life.

Which is completely untrue.

I mean, she may not be a straight-A student, but I'm more than confident she has plenty of fascinating things to say.

For example, one time in ninth grade, Ami and Karin were standing in front of me in the cafeteria line and I overheard Ami tell Karin that she thought Mr. Langley, the biology teacher, looked like Mr. Potato Head with all the pieces in the wrong place. I thought it was hilarious. And incredibly brilliant.

Because he _did _kinda look like that.

None of my friends laughed when I repeated the story. But it was probably just because I didn't tell it with that same unmistakable Ami flare.

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There's a definite buzz going around Konoha High the next morning. I can feel it from the moment I walk through the front doors with Kiba. There are a hundred pairs of eyes on us as we walk down the hallway. People are looking at us! At _us_! I don't think anyone has ever taken notice of my entrance into school for as long as . . . well, I've been _going _to school. It has to be the magazine. What else would it be about?

I whisper to Kiba, "People know."

But he simply shakes his head at me. "No one even cares."

Kiba tends to downplay things like this. Yesterday I spent an hour on the phone trying to convince him that the article would make a difference in our social status, but he strongly disagreed. I think it's just that he's not very realistic when it comes to the students at our school. Or teenagers in general, for that matter.

I mean, he thinks the reason people voted him class president was that he promised to instate a summer work-study program with a local college. I don't have the heart to tell him that the real reason he was voted class president was that, at the last minute, I made him announce a proposal for a lunch delivery program with the local fast-food restaurants.

"Trust me," I tell him assuredly. "They _care_."

During first period alone, three people come up to me and ask if the Kiba Inuzuka in _Contempo Girl _this month is really the same Kiba Inuzuka that goes to this school, and I feel like one of thosespokespeople for celebrities. I can almost see some hotshot E! News correspondent reporting,

"Representatives from the Kiba Inuzuka camp have recently _confirmed _the rumor that he is gracing the pages of the teen version of the ever-popular _Contemporary _magazine. Apparently, his girlfriend of two years, Sakura Haruno, submitted the picture and the story to the publication's monthly 'Meet My Boyfriend' competition, where editors sift through thousands of entries in search of the top five boyfriends from around the country. The man of the hour, Kiba Inuzuka himself, is denying that this article has any connection to his recent rise up the Colonial High social ladder."

At lunch, Temari Sabaku, the head cheerleader, comes up to the table where Tenten, Ino, Hinata and I are eating and tells me that she loved my quote in the magazine. I thank her as modestly as I can, trying to take on that ever-so-gracious thanks-for-your-support, celebrity-like attitude.

"This is so cool," Ino gushes to me as soon as Temari is out of earshot. "It's totally spreading."

"I know!" I whisper, biting down on a potato chip. "Kiba's like a movie star or something."

"It is a l-little nerve-wracking though, isnt it?" Hinata asks softly, "I mean, people are staring."

"Whatever," Tenten interjects, tucking a strand of her dark, long bang behind her ear. "I give it a week before the buzz wears off and everyone forgets about him again."

I'm not surprised at Tenten's bitterness. She's never really shared my obsession with being popular or hanging out with anyone who is. In fact, she pretty much has the exact opposite sentiment toward the whole "high school popularity rat race," as she calls it. Although I've never shared this theory with anyone, I'm pretty sureTenten's resentment has a lot to do with the fact that, up until the sixth grade, she and Ami Watanabe actually used to be best friends.

Before popular cliques separated out the "cool" from the "unworthy," and everyone was kind of just friends with everyone. But then we graduated to middle school and Ami started dating an eighth grader, suddenly became über popular, and stopped talking to Tenten completely, as though Ami quickly deemed Tenten a liability in the quest for greatness and cast her aside like it was nothing. So it's easy to see why Angie would naturally frown upon my thirst for popularity.

And I know that Temari Sabaku commenting on my quote in the magazine only makes things worse because Temari just happens to be the current girlfriend of Tenten's ex-boyfriend, Hidan.

"Hey!" I say defensively. "No one will forget about him. He's class president. If anyone has the ability to stay in the public eye, it's Kiba."

"Public eye?" Tenten shoots me an incredulous look. "He's not a senator, Saks , he's on page thirty five of a teen magazine. Let's take it down a notch here."

"Well, I think it's exciting." Ino sticks up for me. "And when you get to Konoha College next year, you'll have something to brag about."

"_If," _I correct her, taking a sip of my soda. "If I get accepted."

"We all know you'll get accepted, Saks. You're the smartest one in this whole school." Hinata quietly reassures, smiling.

I smile half-heartedly. "Thanks, Hinata."

Ever since December, when I sent in my college applications, getting into Konoha College has been pretty much the only thing I can think about. It has an awesome medical program that I really want to get into. Well, besides Kiba. But he's part of the obsession.

Three generations of Kiba's family graduated from Konoha College, so it was really no surprise when they offered him early admission. In fact, he didn't even have to apply anywhere else. While I was busy stressing over college applications and essays last month, Kiba was sitting pretty in my room watching TV.

"Oh, please," Ino says, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. "If Kiba can get in, you definitely can! Your GPA is totally higher than his."

"Yes, but he got a 2350 on his SATs and my score was not that high," I remind her. "I still think I should have taken it again like he did. His score improved so much the second time around because he took that Kaplan class and studied his butt off."

"Yeah, but I still don't understand why he had to take it at some random school in the city. What? Do they have softer chairs there or something?" Tenten snidely remarks, taking a bite of her tuna fish sandwich and wiping her mouth with a paper towel.

I sigh loudly. "I told you already. He didn't want to take the test around his friends because he thought he'd be distracted. He was just thinking ahead. He's responsible like that."

Tenten opens her mouth to retaliate, but Hinata quickly chimes in with "Um, you might want to drop it 'cause Kiba is on his way over."

I look up to see my boyfriend making his way to our table. He seems to be completely oblivious to the fact that people have actually stopped their conversations to watch him.

"Do you believe me now?" I ask as soon as he sits down next to me.

"Believe what?" Kiba says, pulling a sandwich out of his lunch bag.

"What do you mean, what?" I exclaim. "Everyone is staring at you! They know about the article."

Kiba laughs off the idea and pops open a can of root beer. "They're just excited because I convinced the administration that we need new textbooks for next year."

Ino practically snorts. "Sorry, Kiba. But no one here cares about new textbooks—especially not the seniors—or anything the administration has to say, for that matter."

He takes a sip from his soda. "They'll care when they crack open that new algebra book and discover that every single page is not covered in graffiti."

Ino and Kiba go on like this for a few moments, but I'm hardly paying attention to their little discussion because I'm far too focused on something else entirely. Ami Watanabe is walking directly toward our table.

"Oh my God," I say under my breath. "Look who's coming over here."

On cue, Ino, Tenten, Hinata _and _Mason all turn their heads.

"Don't look at the same time!" I screech.

Tenten shakes her head. "You are ridiculous. In fact, I don't think I even want to hang around here long enough to hear whatever airhead thing she has to say." And with that, she gets up, tosses her lunch bag into the nearest trash can, and heads for the door, making an obvious point to bump roughly against Ami's shoulder as she passes. Ami is completely unfazed by this dismissal and continues her unaltered course toward us.

And that's when I realize that I'm blatantly staring. But no matter how hard I try, I simply can't manage to pull my eyes away. Ami is wearing the most amazing pair of jeans, which hug her hips as perfectly as if they were personally designed for her body. her top is glittering gold at every turn. Her hair is actually glistening under the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria. I didn't think that was even possible with this dreadful lighting.

She approaches us, tosses her violet hair over her shoulder, and leans forward with her hand on the table. "Hi, Kiba. Hi, Sakura," she says, pronouncing my full name with a clear intonation on every syllable. No one really calls me anything but Saks, except a few teachers and my senile grandmother, on the rare days that she actually remembers my name at all.

Kiba smiles politely and offers back a very politically correct "Hi, Ami."

I try hard to stay calm. "Hi, Ami," I manage to repeat in a rather squeaky voice. I immediately clear my throat.

"Great picture in the magazine, Kiba," she says with a slight purse of her lips.

"Thanks," he replies lightly, still holding true to his flawless presidential charm. "Saks picked it out, though."

I nod eagerly. "That's right. I picked it out."

_What are you doing? _I scold myself silently. _Stop repeating everything he says!_

"Well, it was a good choice," Ami says with absolute poise. Like she just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel or something.

"Thanks," I sputter before looking over at Hinata and Ino. I can't help feeling the slightest bit sorry for them.

Ami hasn't even acknowledged their existence. But I'm sure it's because Ami doesn't know Ino's and Hinata's name and doesn't want to be rude by asking. There are over four hundred people in our class; it's not like she's expected to memorize every name in the yearbook just because she's popular.

"Anyway," Ami continues, her silver-colored eyes sparkling, "I was just talking to Sasuke Uchiha before lunch and we both thought it would be really fun if you came to the Loft on Saturday night."

I look anxiously to Ino, and she raises her eyebrows knowingly at me.

"So, what do you say, Kiba?" Ami cocks her head to the side and flashes him a smirk.

"Well, I'm not really sure if—" Kiba starts, but I give him a swift kick in the shin under the table and interrupt. "We'll totally be there!" I say brightly.

Kiba shoots me a what-the-heck? look and reaches down to rub his sore leg as Ami offers me a strange half smile. "Great," she says with another casual flip of her hair. "I guess I'll see you on Saturday." Then she spins around on her pink ballerina flats, and I watch longingly as she makes her way across the cafeteria and regroups with Karin.

"Jeez, Saks," Mason whines, still rubbing his leg. "That really hurt."

But I don't even hear him. Because I'm still kind of in a trance, my eyes locked dazedly on the other side of the cafeteria.

"Saks," Kiba says, waving his hand in front of my face.

I blink rapidly. "Sorry. Was I staring?"

Kiba, Hinata and Ino all laugh. "Just a little," he replies. "You do know she's only Ami Watanabe, not_ Britney Spears_, don't you?"

"Whatever," I say, reaching into my bag of potato chips and pulling out the last one. "It's not like you wouldn't date her if you had the chance."

I'm fully expecting Kiba to instantly negate my statement, but he doesn't say anything. And when I look up at him, I notice that his eyes are not focused on me. His gaze has shifted about half an inch to the right. I follow the direction of his eye line until I suddenly realize that I'm staring at Ami Watanabe again.

"Kiba!" I screech in disbelief.

His focus quickly turns back to me. "What?"

"_Would _you?"

"Would I what?"

"Date Ami Watanabe if you had the chance," I repeat with an exasperated sigh, looking to Ino and Hinata for moral support. But unfortunately, Hinata's head is down and she's concentrating really hard on cutting up a piece of meat loaf with the edge of a plastic fork and Ino is looking to the side, playing with the end of her ponytail.

I know they're just trying to avoid getting caught in the middle.

Kiba breaks into laughter. "Yeah, right. Date _her_? Never in a million years. Besides, why would I need anyone else when I have you?" And then he flashes me one of those irresistible smiles that always leave my knees feeling a little bit wobbly. It's this overpowering mix of adoration and disbelief. I like to translate it as "I love you, but sometimes you're beyond ridiculous." And I immediately forgive him.

Besides, it's really hard to concentrate on being upset with him when there's only one thought occupying my mind at the moment.

We're finally going to the Loft! We're In!

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	3. Behind Door Number Three

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_3-_** Behind **_Door_** Number **_Three_

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_The week drags _on forever and Saturday feels like it is constantly getting farther and farther away. And the worst part is, the faster I want the time to fly, the slower everyone else seems to move around me.

When Saturday does finally arrive, Ino, Tenten, Hinata and I pile into the SUV that Kiba's parents bought him as a congratulations gift for getting accepted to Konoha College and we make our way into Upper Side Konoha to Sasuke Uchiha's loft.

Tenten and Hinata were reluctant to go from the moment we told them we'd been invited. Tenten said she had no interest in hanging out with anyone who threw parties that required a guest list and Hinata just hated the upper social scene. She said that they were all idiots trying to get into someone's pants or bimbos. Besides, she was usually shy whenever we go to any parties.

But Ino and I were insistent, and they eventually yielded. I'm pretty sure the resistance was just a front. Because, in all honesty, I think they both are just as curious as the rest of us about what goes on at the infamous Loft. I don't know how you could not at least wonder.

Kiba parks the car in a pay lot two blocks down from the modern high-rise building, and we each pitch in two dollars to cover the parking fee.

As we step into the lobby, I feel a rush of adrenaline run through my body. The last time I was inside this lobby was when we were leaving it—right after we had been denied admittance to the party upstairs. Not exactly my fondest memory.

I assure myself that tonight will be different. All of the bad memories of this place will be wiped clean and replaced with fresh and exciting new ones.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Kiba says as we step into the elevator. "Why are we here again?"

I nudge him with my elbow. "Because this is the place to be on Saturday night!" I say, slightly annoyed by his question.

"According to who?"

I throw my hands up in frustration. "According to . . . everyone!"

Kiba shakes his head. "I'd much rather be doing what we normally do on Saturday nights."

I toss him an incredulous look. "You mean going to a movie and hanging out at Ichiraku's Ramen?" I don't attempt to hide the disgust in my voice.

Kiba nods. "Yes. I like eating ramen late at night."

"You're hopeless."

As soon as we step out of the elevator I hear the music emerging from behind the door marked 1208. I follow Ino as we make our way down the hall toward the sound of the latest chart-topping song blaring from an amped-up speaker system.

Tenten is the first to arrive at the door, and she looks to us and gestures mockingly toward it. "So is there like a secret code that I have to know, or should I just knock?"

"Just knock," I tell her with an exasperated sigh.

She reaches out and taps the door three times. We wait. Nothing happens.

"Knock louder," I instruct her, suddenly feeling like we're characters in _The Wizard of Oz _, waiting to get inside the gates of the Emerald City so we can finally meet the elusive wizard after our long and tiring journey to get here.

Finally, a few seconds later, the door opens, and the tall and cute Naruto Uzumaki with his big blue eyes and a blaringly orange checkered hoodie is standing behind it.

Naruto and Sasuke have been good friends since grade school. I heard they used to be great rivals when they met, and couldn't stand being around each other, let alone talk to each other. But then suddenly, they became the best of friends. Im pretty sure there's more to the story, but nobody knows the facts.

He looks from Tenten to Ino to Hinata and finally to me. Kiba is standing behind me, leaning against the hallway wall, his arms crossed, clearly disapproving of this entire charade. I quickly glance to the side to see Hinata blushing, for some reason.

Naruto was grinning, a red cup in his hand. He obviously doesn't takes his role as the Loft doorman (or door_person_, rather) very seriously. Which is good for us, we'll have a better chance of getting in.

Last time, it was Karin Hiiragizawa guarding the door herself, and she guarded the door as if her life depended on it. Like she's guarding the entrance to one of those clubs that only celebrities and their entourages are allowed to frequent and anyone who dares try to get by her would soon find themselves thrown into the nearest back-alley Dumpster.

"No," he says shaking his head, and drinking from his cup.

I can feel a lump forming in my throat. No? What does he mean, _no_? As in no entrance? But that's impossible. Ami invited us. Personally!

This can't be happening . . . _again_.

But then I see the door start to close on us and I think fast and reach out with my hand to stop it. "Wait!"

He looks at me with this look that says, 'How dare you question my door authority?' I don't know how he did that since he was still smiling amusedly. It was annoying and intimidating at the same time.

"We're here with my boyfriend, Kiba Inuzuka," I say, stepping aside so he can see Kiba standing behind me. He starts to roll his eyes until I grit my teeth and shoot him a warning look. He breaks into a fake smile and tosses Naruto a pitiful wave.

You know, for being the class president, you would think he'd be better at this kind of thing.

At the sight of Kiba, he grins broadly and swings the door open wide. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Ami said you'd be stopping by. Come on in!"

I let out a huge sigh of relief and timidly step through the door.

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The first thought that crosses my mind when I enter is _Wow! _Just plain old _Wow!_

The place is absolutely enormous. A large, open space with concrete floors and square pillars throughout. The windows are floor to ceiling, offering a spectacular view of the city and the dramatically lit Red Hokage Tower in the distance.

The music is blasting, and people are sprawled out on chic white couches, standing in small groups around the edge of the room, or dancing in the center. Off to the left is a long hallway with three closed red doors that look like they lead to bedrooms or bathrooms, or maybe even closets. On the opposite side of the space there's an enormous kitchen right next to an open sliding glass door that leads out to a balcony overlooking the bay.

It's by far the coolest thing I've ever seen. It looks like a giant warehouse, except clearly decorated with the help of an interior designer who happens to have excellent taste. It's the kind of place you see in _People _magazine when the stars welcome photographers into their homes and you get to see what it's like to be a celebrity. And apparently, this is _exactly _what it's like.

"This is incredible!" I yell to Ino over the sound of the music. She nods in agreement, unable to speak.

"Better than Ichiraku's?" I ask Kiba with a raise of my eyebrows.

He stubbornly shrugs his shoulders. "Not bad."

I scan the room for Ami, mostly just to see what she's wearing and make sure the gold miniskirt and leather boots that I bought especially for the occasion are anywhere up to par. I finally spot her standing in the kitchen next to Karin Hiiragizawa. Tenten likes to joke that Ami and Karin are attached by an eight-foot-long retractable cord. And every time she does, I purposely fail to mention that if Ami even allowed me to stand within eight feet of her on a daily basis; I probably wouldn't leave her side either.

To be fair to Karin, this is her boyfriend's loft, so it makes sense that she would be here. She's practically the hostess. I look around to see if I can spot the host himself, but I can't find him. Probably off somewhere drinking beer and bragging about how fast his Ferrari goes.

Just as I'm about to turn my attention back to my friends, I spot Sai Takahasi sitting on one of the couches in the corner. "What is _he _doing here?" I ask, pointing in his direction. "I mean shouldn't he be off at some sorority party right now?"

Ino turns her head and spots her ex-boyfriend, then immediately turns back to me and shrugs.

"Whatever. I don't care. He can do what he wants. It's a free country."

I look over to Tenten to see if she has anything to say on the subject, but she shrugs too. Hinata nervously looks at him, but doesn't say anything either. So I just let it go and suggest that we dance.

Ino gets giddy with excitement as she grabs my hand and leads me to the center of the room while Tenten and Hinata take a seat on one of the barstools off to the side. Kiba waves from the entrance and motions to me that he'll be on the balcony. I tell him, "Okay," and then face Ino, who is totally absorbed in the beat.

Ino is a really strong chick. Sometimes she impresses me with her ability to hide her feelings and make everyone else think that she's fine, but other times, like tonight, I feel kind of sorry for her and wonder why she feels the need to hide things from people. Especially us, her three best friends.

Because I know that, despite her carefree shrugs and offhanded _whatever_s, seeing Sai Takahashi at this party really does bother her. I mean, how could it not? Last year he told her he would wait until she was ready to have sex, and then the next day she found a condom wrapper under his bed. Apparently when he said "I'll wait to have sex," what he really meant was "I'll wait to have sex with _you_. But any other girl is fair game."

Ino was devastated but claimed to be completely over it within a week, even though Hinata, Tenten and I knew she wasn't.

My favorite song comes on over the speakers, and I wave to Tenten to join us even though we know that she hates to dance, but she firmly shakes her head no. I look over to call Hinata as well and was pleasantly surprised to see Hinata was out _socializing_. And not just with anyone, but with the host's best friend himself—Naruto Uzumaki. They looked pretty cozy together. Oh my God!

"Hey Ino! Check out Hinata!" I yell over the music. Ino turns to the direction I'm pointing at. Her eyes widen and suddenly we're squealing on the dance floor like a couple of twelve year old girls squealing over their crushes together over the interesting development. It really was great she was talking to guys again after what happened with her ex-boyfriend, Kankuro Sabaku.

They used to be really good friends before they decided to date and when they did, we were all excited. But then everything turned to hell when she found out he was dating another girl from another school way before they started officially dating. To say she was heartbroken would've been a severe understatement. Since then, she'd never really talked to guys with the exception of Kiba. Until today.

I laugh to myself in happiness and turn back to Ino, who looks as content as I feel. This is way too cool. We're already having a blast and we only just got here. This is definitely what you're supposed to do on a Saturday night.

I know now that I could never go back to movies and late-night ramen.

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An hour and a half later, I'm completely sweaty and my feet are killing me. These new boots definitely weren't made for dancing. Ino and I step away from the center of the room and fan ourselves with our hands. I look over at Hinata and she looked engrossed at whatever Naruto was acting dramatically out with his hands.

"Omigod! Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?! I mean, Hinata's blushing! That Naruto must be a real charmer if he got our Hinata out of her shy shell!" Ino squeals happily and picks up a bottle of water.

I quickly glance around for Tenten, but she's nowhere to be seen.

"I wonder where she went," I say, gulping from a bottle of water that I pulled out of the refrigerator.

Ino finishes her water and tosses the empty bottle into a nearby trash can. "I think I saw her talking to some guy earlier. Let's go find her. Maybe she's macking with him somewhere. If we catch her in the act, we'll have some good dirt to use later."

"Excellent idea," I reply as we make our way through the crowd to the other side of the loft.

We approach the hallway with the three red doors and stop in front of the first one. "Let's see what's behind door number one!" I exclaim, dramatically swinging the door open with great force.

It's a coat closet.

Definitely not very exciting. Unless we've just interrupted some raunchy game of seven minutes in heaven. But unfortunately, this coat closet is filled mostly with coats.

Ino and I both chime in on a unified round of disappointed _awwww_s before I step over to the next door and say, "Okay, what about door number two?"

I swing open the second door to reveal a large marble bathroom with a huge Jacuzzi tub in the middle. Jade peers in from behind me, and we see Temari Sabaku, the head cheerleader, leaning over the counter, applying a layer of lip gloss. She turns her head and gives us both a once-over. "Did you need to use the bathroom?"

I shake my head and close the door behind me. "I guess that leaves only one choice." I pause before the last red door in the hallway. "Tenten, prepare to be busted!"

Ino giggles giddily, and I put my finger to my lips to quiet her as I softly creak the door open and we both tiptoe into the darkness. I can make out two figures on a bed against the far wall, and it sounds like they're kissing.

Yep, those are definitely kissing noises.

I feel a small thrill rush over me. The kind you can only feel when you know your best friend is getting some much-needed action. It's been forever since Tenten has made out with a boy, and I'll be the first to say that it's about time.

Ino stifles another giggle and flips on the light. The bright light momentarily blinds me, but after a few seconds, my vision clears and I can finally make out the sight that lies in front of me.

_Oh my God._

I stand frozen in shock. Completely unable to move. Suddenly it feels like a thousand-pound brick has just fallen down on top of my head. The sound of the music and talking and laughter coming from the main room slowly fades into a quiet, muted buzz, and I can feel my legs start to turn into Jell-O beneath me.

The two figures making out on the bed are not Tenten and some random guy.

But rather Ami Watanabe. . . and Kiba.

Yes , _my _Kiba! Sweet, honest, loyal, didn't-even-want-to-come-to-this-freaking-party-in-the-firstplace Kiba!

My heart starts to pound in my chest, and I feel as if it might actually explode at any minute. The unexpected light has stopped them in the middle of their tongue-tango fiesta, and Kiba looks up to see me standing in front of him. His eyes fill with panic, and he opens his mouth to speak.

But I don't wait for anything to come out. I turn around as fast as I can and head straight for the front door. I run through it and don't stop until I reach the elevator and push the button. The tears are already starting to sting my eyes, and I can't wait for the elevator to arrive so I head to the stairwell and fly down every last flight of stairs until I find myself outside in the chilly January night's air.

The fog coming in from the bay is thick, and I can hardly see two feet in front of me. Or maybe I'm just going into shock and my vision is clouding over. I'm really not sure at this point.

I try to breathe in the fresh air and use its crispness to cool the fire burning in my chest. But it's no use. I can feel the vomit rising up in my throat. I anxiously spin around and look for a trash can, a plastic bag, anything. But there's nothing of the kind.

Finally, I step into the alley next to the building and throw up right on the street.

The image of Ami and Kiba is circling around in my head so fast that it feels like I just got off the Tilt-A-Whirl at some cheap carnival. Except at least the Tilt-A-Whirl is a pretty fun ride while you're actually on it. Walking in on my boyfriend of two years making out with the most popular girl in the school is definitely _not _my idea of fun.

_How could Kiba do this to me?_

How could _Ami _do this to me? She knows he's my boyfriend. Heck, everyone knows! Some random farmer picking corn in the middle of Japan knows. It's published in _Contempo Girl _magazine for all to see!

I'm suddenly hit with the sickening realization that this isn't about Ami not knowing. It's about her not caring.

I lean over for another round of puking. This time, Ino is in the alleyway, holding back my hair. I suddenly feel stupid and childish. Who throws up after the age of ten? Except when you have food poisoning. Or you're bulimic.

I turn and look at Ino standing loyally by my side, her face full of pain and agony.

Tenten and Hinata rushes out of the building a few seconds later, after obviously having seen me run from the party, along with every A-list member of Colonial High's senior class. Fortunately, I'm in too much shock over what just happened to even start to feel the mortification of it.

"I don't under—I don't . . ." I try to speak, but I can't. I find it hard to even catch my breath. I struggle to take in deep lungfuls of air, but in the end, I just break into a ragged cough. Ino pats my back with her hand like a mother burping a baby and looks at me with these deep, apologetic eyes. The tears are falling harder now. I can feel them. They're running through the mascara that I had ever so carefully applied.

They're streaking down my perfectly powdered face.

I simply can't bring myself to stop crying. And I don't want to. I have never felt so hurt and betrayed in my entire life. I think that entitles me to a few stupid little tears. Even if I _am _standing in the middle of Upper Side Konoha, in some strange alleyway, surrounded by empty glass bottles and abandoned shopping carts.

I look into the eyes of my three best friends, my mouth unable to form any sort of comprehensible sound.

Finally, Hinata reaches out and pulls me into a hug, and I sob silently on her shoulder.

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	4. The Great Escape

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_4-_** The **_Great_** Escape**

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_The clock on _the wall reads 11:59 p.m., and Kiba still has not called. What on earth is he waiting for? A sign from God?

When your girlfriend walks in on you making out with another girl and then storms out, you call. It's the decent thing to do. You call and apologize. Then you beg for her back. And tell her that you were a stupid, selfish jerk who doesn't deserve her, but if she finds it in her heart to forgive you, you would be forever indebted to her.

That's what you do.

You don't _not _call!

I stare at the silent phone, trying to decide whether or not to pick it up and call him. Tenten, Ino and Hinata lectured me in the cab on the way home about _not _doing exactly that. Something about how it will make me look desperate and I'd probably just end up going over to his house and hooking up with him.

And that would be a huge mistake.

But I don't care. I pick up the phone anyway and lightly finger the speed-dial button I've always been so quick to push without hesitation. I tell myself that maybe he's not calling because he's afraid to. If I call him first, then I'll be showing him that it's safe to talk. And I do want to talk. Honestly, I do. Mostly about how sorry he is and how he's going to make it up to me, but that's still talking.

I press down the speed-dial button and hold the phone tentatively up to my ear. It rings three times before someone answers. But there's so much background noise that I can hardly hear anything.

"Hello?" I say.

I hear more loud noise that sounds a lot like music mixed with distinct laughter.

Where the heck is he? It's nearly midnight. He can't possibly still be . . .

Oh my God. My heart shudders in my chest as I realize . . . He's still there. He's still at the Loft party. He hasn't even left. But that would mean that he didn't run after me. That would mean that he didn't leave Ami waiting alone on the bed while he rushed to the bathroom, sat on the cold tile floor with his head in hands, thinking long and hard about what he did.

"Hello?" I say again, despite my better self telling me to just hang up and save my dignity.

Then, over the loud noises and giggles and music, a voice comes on the line. It's crystal clear. And it's female.

I'd recognize that voice anywhere. After all, I spent the last five years wishing that voice would say more than two words to me.

It belongs to Ami Watanabe.

"Kiba Inuzuka's phone," she says, imitating a bubbly secretary. Then she breaks into hysterical fits of drunken laughter. There's a loud rustling on the other end, and it sounds as if the phone is being put through the spin cycle of my mother's washing machine.

And then from farther away, but still clear as day, I hear Ami's voice again. "Kiba, someone's calling for you! I think it's your . . . _ex-girlfriend_."

My whole body freezes and the phone slips out of my hands and falls into the down comforter on the bed, where it's immediately swallowed up in the fabric, until the heartbreaking sounds of laughter and music are almost completely muted and then . . . total silence.

I'm barely able to bring myself to look down at the screen. The line is dead.

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I don't hear anything from Kiba for the rest of the weekend, and I actually manage to convince myself that he's spending the time coming to his senses and preparing an apology. So by the time I get to school on Monday morning, I'm half expecting to find a dozen red roses stashed inside my locker along with a ten-page letter from Kiba confessing his utter stupidity and shortsightedness. Maybe he'll blame it on alcohol. Maybe he'll tell me that Ami held a gun to his head and forced him to make out with her.

Either way, I'll have to think long and hard about whether or not I will forgive him.

But when I dial the combination and open the locker, I'm devastated to find that it's empty. Well, except for my usual textbooks, binders, graphing calculator, and of course, the page from _Contempo Girl_ magazine with Kiba's picture that I taped to the inside of the door. But there is no letter. No card. Not even a Post-it. Nothing.

I hastily rip the picture of him from the door, crumple it up, and throw it in the back of my locker to rot with all the candy bar wrappers and brown paper lunch bags. Then I slam the locker door shut with a loud _bang_.

All around me, people are whispering and pointing. Like I'm some kind of circus freak. And unfortunately, I know exactly what they're saying.

"_Look, there goes that poor girl who _used _to date Kiba Inuzuka."_

I can see the same E! News reporter again in my head. This time, he's reporting a much more tragic story:

"It appears Kiba Inuzuka just can't handle the new celebrity pressure that came with his magazine photo op. A mere five days after the magazine hit news stands, Kiba was seen canoodling with one Ami Watanabe at a local party. According to sources close to the couple, his former girlfriend, the one who is responsible for his fifteen minutes of fame to begin with, was said to be 'absolutely crushed.' Whether or not the duo will eventually rekindle their flame is yet to be determined."

I lower my head and begin to walk to first period, trying to ignore all the whispers and stares. I guess this is that celebrity backlash you always hear about. I realize what it feels like to be stalked by the paparazzi. But not in the good way, like I just released a hit record or my boyfriend signed a multi-million dollar contract with a new soccer team.

More like the kind where I've been pulled over for drunk driving, I'm facing time in prison, and the photographers want to get that tabloid cover shot that they can plaster next to the headline LAST DAYS OF FREEDOM.

Because the truth is, this school is like one giant tabloid magazine. The latest breakup, fashion blunder, trip down the stairs, locker stuffing, or spilled food tray in the cafeteria is always the hottest topic buzzing through the gossip mill. And with word of Saturday night's Loft party streaming the halls faster than high speed Internet, it's now my face on the current cover.

Maybe Kiba is just late getting to school. Maybe he was up all night crying and polishing his apology speech so he slept through his alarm and is racing to school (roses in hand) right now, ready to get down on his knees and beg for my forgiveness. Maybe he's . . .

_OH. MY. GOD._

I stop dead in my tracks and stare down the hallway.

_This is not happening. This is _not _happening. Wake up, Sakura! Wake _up_!_

But it _is _happening. Right before my very eyes.

Kiba and Ami have just walked into school . . . _together_. Yes, as in hand in hand, totally smitten, full-on couple mode.

This is unbelievable! First he tells me he would never, ever date her. Then I catch them making out at a party that he didn't even want to go to, then Ami answers his cell phone only hours after I left, and now suddenly they're high school's sweethearts?

What am I missing here?

I watch them walk blissfully down the hall and I can hear my heart pounding in my chest. He whispers something in her ear, and she breaks out laughing. Not the polite kind. The other kind. The kind you only hear from a person who is totally head over heels for someone.

_Don't cry, _I instruct myself. _Whatever you do, _do not _cry in the middle of this hallway._

I stand frozen like a decorative statue in a museum as people maneuver around me, slowly starting to clear out and disappear into classrooms. For some reason, I can't seem to move. That is, until I notice that Kiba and Ami are walking right toward me. And I know that I have to move my feet. I have to get out of here before they see me. I have to run!

And I do. My feet unfreeze, and instantly I'm booking it in the opposite direction. I make it to the back entrance of the school, push through the double doors, and scamper into the parking lot. I fumble around the front pocket of my backpack for my car keys and unlock the door to my cheap, used crap-mobile.

The one my parents bought for me on my sixteenth birthday not because it was totally sporty and fast and cool-looking.

But because it was under ten thousand dollars and still had a working engine.

I plop down in the seat and, without even thinking, turn the key in the ignition, throw the car into drive, and peel out of the parking lot like a race-car driver with a death wish.

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"Kiba Inuzuka would be _nothing _without me," I bellow to Ino later that afternoon. It didn't take long for my despair to turn into anger. Four hours to be exact. And honestly, I'm glad about it. It's a whole lot easier to be angry at Kiba than to feel slighted, cheated, betrayed, and abandoned by him.

I'm sitting on Ino's bed, skimming through the latest batch of magazines to arrive in her mailbox, while she sits hunched over next to me, painting her toenails a dark shade of purple. "You know I'm the only reason he even got elected class president in the first place," I continue, gaining momentum as I go. "I ran his entire campaign. I was his right-hand man!"

"Right-hand _woman_," Ino corrects.

"Yes!" I violently flip a page. " _And_, if I hadn't sent that stupid picture in to the magazine, he would still just be plain old Kiba. The guy that no one even cares about. Who people call Dog-boy!"

"Totally," Ino says faithfully. If she is getting at all tired of hearing me rant about Kiba, she certainly is doing a good job hiding it.

"I mean, Kiba and I were together for two years. Two _whole _years. In high school time that's like two centuries. And he goes and leaves me for Miss perfect body, perfect hair, perfect everything Ami Watanabe."

Ino scrunches her face up. "She's not _that _perfect, Saks."

I toss my hands up in the air. "Of course she is. Even her _name _is perfect."

Ino takes a sip from her can of soda and then says, "Oh, please. It's totally generic. I like your name. It's unique."

I snort. "Yeah, right? Sakura Haruno?"

She nods. "It sounds like you're a famous model or something. Totally flowery and all that. I mean, spring field of cherry blossoms? Its unique!"

"Yeah, except for one tiny problem. I don't like modeling. And I hate being girly"

Ino laughs. "Insignificant detail."

The truth is, I was named Sakura because of my pink hair and green eyes. My parents thought the name would symbolize my hair's similarity with cherry blossoms. Even if it was a good attempt, I thought the whole thing was unoriginal. I mean, sure—name the kid Sakura because she has pink hair. How much more unoriginal can it get?!

"You know what the real bummer about this whole thing is?" I ask, clearly not expecting Ino to venture a guess because I don't even wait for her to speak before I continue. "Kiba comes out of this looking like a god. He's dating Ami Watanabe now. He can practically do anything. And that issue of _Contempo Girl _is going to be on the stands for at least another three weeks and he's going to reap the benefits. It's so not fair."

Ino shrugs casually as if yes, this thought has crossed her mind but it really hasn't bothered her in the slightest. "Don't worry, he'll get what's coming to him."

"No, he won't," I say immediately.

"Sure he will," Ino assures me, applying a second coat of polish to her big toe and then leaning back to admire her work. "Kiba Inuzuka may be a local celebrity, but he's still not immune to Karma. Nobody is."

There's something about the way that she pronounces the word _Karma_, like a magic spell had been placed on it. "Karma?" I repeat with skepticism.

"Yes," she replies, twisting the cap back onto her nail polish bottle and placing it on the nightstand. "Karma comes after everyone eventually. You can't get away with screwing people over your entire life, I don't care who you are. What goes around comes around. That's how it works. Sooner or later the universe will serve up a nice, steaming-hot plate of revenge to Kiba Inuzuka. No matter how good his hair looks after soccer practice."

"Sounds like wishful thinking to me." I look down at the magazine in front of me and stare at a bright and glossy advertisement for tampons featuring a girl in tight white spandex pants (who is obviously supposed to be on her period and not caring in the slightest that her white pants are practically hugging her crotch) riding piggyback on the back of a guy who I assume is her boyfriend.

I scowl at the picture and grunt in disgust. "Boys just don't act the way they do in the tampon ads, do they?"

"Huh?" Ino leans over to see what I'm referring to. "Oh, right. No, they don't."

"They don't give you piggyback rides when you're too tired to walk. They don't come to your rescue when you're in trouble. They just take what they want from you and then move on."

Ino nods solemnly. "Yep. After I told Sai I wasn't ready to have sex, he simply moved on to someone who was."

"And I was already planning this big bash for Kiba's eighteenth birthday next month. He knew that!"

Ino shakes her head in disgust. "Ungrateful scum."

After about fifteen more minutes of good, old-fashioned guy bashing, I fear that we've started to sound like bitter, midlife divorcées and I decide that I should probably get myself home before the cynicism starts to permanently stick to me.

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I was hoping I'd be able to skip the family dinner that night since I pretty much lost my appetite ever since I threw up in a back alley in Upper Side Konoha. Plus I haven't exactly told my parents and my sister yet about what happened with Kiba.

Partially because I'm just not sure I can say the words aloud without bursting into tears again. But mostly because I suppose I'm still clinging to the hope that this is all just a bad dream, that Kiba will eventually come to his senses, dump Ami Watanabe, and crawl back to me on his hands and knees.

But from the moment I walk through the door, I can tell that skipping dinner is not going to be an option.

"Sit down, Sakura," my mom says sternly as I attempt to pass by the kitchen and head upstairs to my room. "We need to talk."

I know right away that my parents are pissed about something.

"I already ate," I protest as I slump into the chair next to my little sister, Moegi, who is shoveling pasta into her mouth.

"I think you're in trouble." She states the obvious with a mouth full of red sauce.

"The school called this afternoon," my mom begins. "They said you didn't show up to any of your classes and wanted to know if I would excuse your absence."

"And?" I reply blankly. "Did you?"

My mom looks to my dad and then back at me. "Yes, but only because I trust you had a good reason for skipping school."

"I did," I assure them. "Now can I go upstairs and study?"

But I can tell from the look on my father's face that the answer is a very firm (and slightly annoyed) no. I sigh and slump further down in my seat. "Do I really have to tell you?"

My parents exchange a glance before replying "Yes" in absolute perfect synchronicity. Sometimes I swear they practice that kind of stuff before they go to bed at night.

"I want to know too!" Moegi chimes in, but my mom quickly shushes her.

"Fine," I sputter, feeling the tears already starting to well up in my eyes. "Kiba kissed another girl on Saturday night and then they showed up together at school today. So now we're probably over. As is my life. That's why I left early."

There's a loud _clank _as my sister's pasta fork hits the plate and she stares at me in astonishment. I quickly look to the floor.

"Who'd he kiss?" Moegi asks eagerly, and I'm fully expecting my parents to shush her again and inform me with sympathetic eyes that I don't have to answer that, but they don't. Instead they both continue to stare at me, and I soon realize that they're just as curious as she is.

But I'm really not in the mood to satisfy anyone's drama-hungry curiosity, so I simply scoot my chair away from the table and mumble, "I don't really want to talk about it. Can I be excused now? I have to study."

My mom quickly nods, and I stand up and walk away, leaving everyone in a stunned silence.

As soon I reach my room, I shut the door behind me. I do actually have homework to finish, but I can't possibly imagine doing it. Instead, I prepare for a long night of what is commonly referred to as "wallowing." And it makes perfect sense. For about forty-five minutes straight I do nothing but stare at the wall. Eventually, I even become convinced that it might possibly be a wall-staring world record. But Because I don't have the energy or the will-power to get up from the spot that I've decided to occupy for the rest of the night and check the Internet to see if it really is a world record, I suppose I will never know.

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	5. The Dalai Who?

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_5-_** The **_Dalai_** Who**_ ?_

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_For the rest _of the week I did my best to avoid both Kiba and Ami at all costs. And after four days of making myself completely invisible at school, you would think that Kiba, being the good class president that he is, would have taken notice of my extended absence and picked up the phone to see how he person in his previous relationship was doing after walking in on the shock of her life.

But no. There were no phone calls. No text messages. No e-mails. Kiba had gone radio silent.

That is until he showed up on the other side of my front door on Friday afternoon to exchange all of the "stuff" that we'd left at each other's houses over the past two years. No, I'm not kidding. Those were the first words he had the nerve to say to me after what happened at the Loft:

"I came by to pick up my stuff."

You really can't blame me for slamming the door in his face. Although, honestly, I didn't have much control over that part. It was just what my muscles did. Like a knee-jerk reaction or something.

I stood there for a few seconds on the other side of the slammed door, trying to catch my breath and make some sort of sense of what had just happened. But when I came up short on both accounts, I turned, took the stairs two at a time, and then, upon reaching the top, sprinted into my bedroom.

"Who was that?" I heard my mom call from her reading chair in the den.

"No one," I shouted back coldly and then turned and slammed my second door in under a minute.

I seriously thought that I could hide out in the safe confines of my own bedroom for the entire weekend and be left relatively alone. But it becomes painfully clear that this is wishful thinking when my mom enters my room at seven thirty in the morning on Saturday and proceeds to kidnap me.

Okay, not in like a bag-over-my-head-, gag-in-my-mouth-, hands-tied-behind-my-back-type scenario.

But I think waking me up before ten on a weekend, forcing me into the car, and not telling me where we're going definitely constitutes some form of kidnapping.

And when I notice an overnight bag sitting on the backseat, I can pretty much surmise that this is not going to be a simple day trip.

"I don't understand why you can't tell me where we're going," I plead for the fifth time as we drive north along the 101 freeway and all evidence of civilization slowly fades into the background.

"Well," my mom says aloofly, taking a sip from her stainless steel travel coffee mug filled with herbal tea, "since you don't have a choice, it doesn't really matter where we're going, does it?"

I groan and push my head back into the headrest, silently cursing the gods for sticking me with such proactive parents. Why couldn't my mom and dad just be normal, self-absorbed Japanese parents?

Obsessed with country club memberships and Botox. One absence from school and a few nights of wallowing alone in my room and suddenly I'm being sent away to what I can only imagine will be some sort of boot camp for heartbroken teens.

I mean, come on! One (very justified) ditch does not a rebel make. Next thing I know I'll be sitting on a couch across from some shrink on television being asked to explain why I _choose _to make such bad choices with my life. I think it's safe to say that there's just the slightest bit of overreacting going on around here.

And not to mention, this is completely unfair. How am I ever supposed to learn to deal with life's problems on my own if my parents insist on intervening the minute there's a glitch in my perfect attendance record? How am I supposed to become a responsible, self-sufficient adult when I'm not allowed just the tiniest harmless meltdown every once in a while?

My mom navigates through the countryside, occasionally referring to a printed-out map that she keeps folded up and out of my reach in a compartment in the driver's-side door.

After what feels like hours, we finally pull into the driveway of a huge, landscaped complex with, from what I can see from my obstructed view out the passenger-side window, gardens, fountains, a gazebo, and several white buildings that look similar to the one we're currently parked in front of.

Yep, definitely a boot camp of some kind. It looks like one of those ritzy, overpriced celebrity rehab centers that you see pictures of in the tabloids. It's not until we get out of the car and my mom hands the keys to a waiting valet attendant that I notice a sign in front of the building's entrance. And that's when I know that my life is officially over.

It's even worse than I thought.

Worse than boot camp for heartbroken teens. Worse than an upscale rehab center. Worse than going on TV to talk about my problems.

"Napa Valley Spiritual Center for Inner Growth?" I ask incredulously.

I'm not kidding. Those are the exact words on the sign. Trust me, I could not have come up with that combination of letters on my own.

My mom opens the back door and grabs the black overnight bag off of the seat as she flashes me an exuberant smile. Ironically, it's the exact same smile I used to get when she'd take me to the water park or the McDonald's Playland when I was a kid. It's that look parents give you when they're excited because they think they're hip and "with it" and know "what the kids are into these days."

"It's the perfect place for us to relax, make peace with our pasts, and let go of negative energy," she explains.

I start to roll my eyes until I realize what she has just said. And my eyes stop dead in their tracks, somewhere between the corner of my right eyebrow and my forehead. "Wait a minute?" I ask in disbelief.

"_Us? _As in me _and _you?"

Her face lights up with excitement. "I thought it would be fun. You know, a mother-daughter bonding experience. Plus, I think a retreat away from everything and every_one _will help you deal with some of your feelings about Kiba."

I groan loudly. "I don't need a spiritual retreat to do that! I need a punching bag and a carton of ice cream."

My mom frowns at me with disappointment sprawled across her face. "Now, you see, Saki. That is not a healthy way to deal with this. You can't just lock yourself in your room all week and hope to feel better when you get out."

"It's a breakup, Mom. There is no healthy way to deal with it."

She takes a deep, patient breath and rests her hand on my shoulder. "If you'll give this a chance, I think you'll find that the opposite is true. Besides, you could probably benefit from some exposure to new cultures and ideas. You can't find everything you need to know in the pages of _Contempo Girl _magazine."

I fold my arms across my chest and plant my feet firmly on the ground, attempting to give off a convincing display of resistance. "I'm not going in there."

My mom pouts slightly and prods me with the tip of her index finger. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun. I signed us up for some really cool stuff. Yoga, guided meditations, and even a class on the philosophies of the Dalai Lama!"

I look at her as if she might actually be mentally unstable, and piercing sarcasm slowly drips into my voice. "The Dalai _who_?"

But my mom apparently is done arguing because she tosses the bag (which I now realize is packed with _both _of our essentials) over her shoulder, takes hold of my elbow, and says, "Can it, Saki. You're going inside."

And after seventeen years of being privy to this woman's array of vocal intonations and body language, I know at that moment that spiritual enlightenment is in my very immediate future, whether I like it or not.

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The minute I walk through the door, I feel like I've stepped into a really weird dream. And for a moment, I secretly pray that that's exactly what this is. And any minute now, I'll wake up in my bed and this will all be a fleeting memory.

This place is a perfect example of one of those things that you have to see for yourself to truly appreciate just how wacko it is. (And of course, I say "wacko" with the very deepest respect for whatever culture is being represented here.)

The room we enter is white. And I mean the whitest white room you've ever seen. The walls are white, the ceiling is white, the couch in the middle of the room is white, the tile on the floor is white, even the picture frames on the walls are white.

Given that this place is supposed to be somewhere people go to relax and escape their daily problems, I would assume the white is meant to put you at ease. But honestly, for me, it has the exact opposite effect. I suddenly feel extremely stressed out at the thought that I might accidentally touch something and the oil from my fingers would stand out like a fluorescent bloodstain under one of those special crime-scene lights.

My mom and I approach the reception desk, which is, of course, white, and she gives our names to the lady sitting behind it, who is dressed head to toe in what I can only describe as a full-body sarong-toga-looking thing. In white.

As my mom fills out a series of forms, I notice a medium-size statue sitting on top of the desk. It's in the shape of a golden man. He's wearing a tall, pointed hat, long, dangling earrings, and he's sitting cross-legged with his hands on his knees and his eyes closed. Like he's deep in thought. Or really pissed off.

I stare at the statue with serious skepticism. "Who is that?" I ask with just the slightest trace of rudeness in my voice.

The woman behind the desk seems pleased by my curiosity and speaks in a fluid, soothing tone. "That is the Buddha, my child."

_My child? _Please. Can they be any more cliché right now?

I nod, like I know exactly what she's talking about even though I'm only faintly familiar with Buddha.

"Isn't he supposed to be fat?" I reply.

My mom shoots me a warning look, but I simply smile back at her. Hey, it was her idea to come to this "enlightening" place to begin with; I might as well be "enlightened."

The woman is completely unfazed by my sarcastic tone. "Yes, sometimes he is depicted as what Western society deems to be _fat_." She pronounces the word as if it doesn't really exist and the only reason she's decided to acknowledge my choice of vocabulary is so she can attempt to relate to me on some level. Kind of like when adults try to use the word _dawg _or _homey_.

"But other depictions look like this," she continues, patting the statue's tall, pointed hat. "And if you rub his belly, it's supposed to bring you good luck."

I take one final look at the statue and mumble, "Maybe later."

The next thing I know, my mom and I are following another sarong-toga-clad woman on a thirty-minute tour of the compound. Oh, sorry, I mean, "spiritual center."

"Many people come to our center to deal with pain, loss, stress, or a death in the family," the woman is explaining as we make our way through "Zen Garden 2," which looks remarkably identical to "Zen Garden 1."

"It's a place where one can make peace with the world around them."

"It's simply beautiful," my mom says, taking a deep breath and acting like she's never experienced fresh air before. She turns to me. "Isn't it beautiful?"

I shrug. "It's all right."

"Our goal here," the woman continues, "is for everyone to leave feeling fresh and rejuvenated, having cleansed the dirt of everyday life from your soul. Like the earth feels after a purifying rainstorm."

The woman says this like she's reciting poetry or something, and I have to keep myself from laughing because I know that would not go over well with my mother.

By the end of the first day, it's pretty safe to say that this place is not exactly geared toward my demographic. All of the classes that I reluctantly sit through are filled with two kinds of people:

(1) the tourists and the few American families who go to places like this for the fun of it (One man's spiritual retreat for inner growth is another man's amusement park) and

(2) the New Age midlife crisis victims who have lost their way in the world and are looking for guidance.

And then, of course, there's me. The one person in the room who would rather be watching E!

I'm sorry, but doing yoga in a hundred-degree room while I'm sweating my face off and feeling like I might actually pass out at any given moment is not my idea of an off-the-hook Saturday afternoon.

And the 100 percent organic vegan food that they serve around here for meals (and dessert) is just about as unappetizing as it sounds.

So when I finally crawl into the unfamiliar bed that night and pull the scratchy organic sheets up to my chin, all I can think about is how in less than twenty-four hours I'll be back in my own room, with my own dairy-delicious food, talking to people who don't readily use terms like _oneness _and _self-love _and _the_ _Tao _(which, by the way, I've learned is actually pronounced with a _D_, begging the obvious question of why they just don't spell it _Dao_.)

Did my mom honestly think that she could drag me here and all my problems would just vanish into thin air? That after two days of folding my body into highly unnatural positions, eating cheesecake made out of tofu, and listening to people preach the wonders of inner peace, I would suddenly no longer feel the agony of Kiba's betrayal? Did she completely forget what it's like to be in high school?

Because no matter what happens here over the weekend, come Monday morning I will have to face it all over again. The humiliation. The rejection. The heartbreak. And the worst part, the feeling of total and utter helplessness. Knowing that what Ami and Kiba did to me was wrong, but I'm completely powerless to do anything about it.

The next morning, my mom and I are sitting in a circle of approximately fifteen people in the middle of Zen Garden 1 while an animated, middle-aged man named Rajiv, dressed in a flowing white wraparound top and matching pants, walks barefoot in the grass behind us. Every word out of his mouth seems perfectly choreographed with his position on the ground and the movement of his hands.

"Life is a balancing act!" he says energetically in a rich and melodic Indian accent as he passes behind me. "Everything in this universe has an equal opposite." He lays his hands out flat in front of him and then turns them over in a seeming attempt to mime the concept of opposites. Like we've never heard of it before.

I look over to see my mom nodding thoughtfully, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes because here we are being lectured about how to live our lives by a man who dresses in all white a good four months after Labor Day.

"The universe balances itself out by creating a mirror image of everything in it. And we must, too, seek to create balance in our lives."

I check my watch. Another two hours and I'm so out of here. Back to the real world, where meat and cheese are served on a regular basis, the men don't wear sarong togas, and every single thought you have isn't meant to be analyzed, cherished, and set free.

"Fortunately," Rajiv continues with great passion, "there are forces in the universe that help us achieve that balance."

I stick the tip of my index finger in my mouth and concentrate on using my teeth to smooth out an annoyingly jagged and unpolished fingernail.

"Forces whose sole purpose is to maintain a constant equilibrium among time and space as a whole."

Rajiv gestures wildly, as if moving the air around his body will help him prove some kind of point.

_God, this nail is stubborn, _I think, gnawing down on it with determination.

"These forces have been given names throughout time. Of course, one of the most well-known and widely used names for this balancing act is _Karma_."

My finger drops from my mouth, and I stare at him with instant intrigue. There it is again. That stupid Karma thing that Ino mentioned the other day. What is it with everyone and that word?

"But what some people like to call Karma is really just that powerful energy that brings harmony to the universe. It is the sum of all an individual has done, is currently doing, and will do. So that, in the end, universal imbalances will be balanced."

_Hmmm, _I think as I listen to him speak. The sum of everything that an individual has done and will do.

Like a bank account. The net balance of your deposits and withdrawals. Anyone who makes a withdrawal from the account eventually has to also make a deposit. That seems to make sense. Although it would also mean that Kiba and Ami are in serious Karma overdraft.

Rajiv continues. "The effects of all deeds actively create past, present, and future experiences, thus making one responsible for one's own life, and the pain and joy it brings to others."

Wait a minute. I stop listening for a second as I attempt to digest what he has just said. _Making one responsible for one's own life, and the pain and joy it brings to others._

Exactly! Kiba _should _be held responsible for what he did to me. It's only fair. His universal imbalance _should _be balanced out! Exactly like this guy is saying.

Up until now, I always thought Karma was just a convenient device to make us feel better about what's happening in the world. You know, like what Ino said about Kiba getting what's coming to him. Bad deeds will be punished. But maybe it goes deeper than that.

Maybe the universe works like some type of giant balancing scale. Whatever you put on one side of the scale has to be evened out by placing something of the exact same weight on the other side. Otherwise, everything would be out of whack and we would all just float out into space or something.

Is that what this guy is trying to tell us when he speaks of balance? That someday Kiba really will get what's coming to him? That he too will be balanced out and maybe, just maybe, humiliated and destroyed as I had been? In front of everyone? Yes, that would definitely make me feel a good hundred times better.

Suddenly, this Rajiv guy is more interesting than his outfit would suggest.

"And while Karma and the universe are busy fulfilling their responsibilities of keeping all life in balance, you too must take responsibility for instilling balance in your _own _life."

He then goes on to cite examples of how we can go about doing this. Something about taking the time to spend quality moments with loved ones, donating to people who are less fortunate, and some other ideas that I don't quite catch because I'm far too busy thinking about what this means in the context of what has happened in the past week.

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When the workshop is over, my mom and I approach Rajiv to personally thank him for such an inspiring lecture, and I take the time to flash him a genuine smile and say, "Yes, very inspiring indeed."

He presses the palms of his hands together as if he's going to start praying, but instead he simply bends at the waist and dips into a shallow bow, and it's then that I notice the symbol hanging from a black cord around his neck.

It's one that I've seen before. Mostly hanging from the rearview mirrors of surfers' cars or gracing bumper stickers on the backs of hippie station wagons, but I never quite understood what it meant. I always assumed it was some kind of alternative peace sign.

When Rajiv rises from his prayer bow, he must notice me staring at the symbol because he touches it delicately with his fingertips and says, "It is a Yin-Yang."

I try to play off my naïveté. "Yeah, I know."

I didn't know.

"And it stands for balance," he explains patiently as he clasps his fingers together and rests them in front of him. "You see. Everything has its perfect opposite. Just like the Yin-Yang. We must find the opposite of our pain, and there we will discover our source of purest joy."

I nod vigorously. "I couldn't agree more."

My mom throws me a sideways glance that I can swear is a combination of "Who are you?" and "What did you do with my heartbroken and hopeless daughter?"

I ignore the look and attempt to replicate Rajiv's half bow as I say thank you and goodbye. My mom gives me another strange look but clearly decides not to press the issue.

For the first fifteen minutes of the drive back to Konoha's valley, we ride in silence. I am 100 percent consumed with my thoughts, and I'm sure my mother is 100 percent consumed with trying to read them.

Finally, she breaks the silence and says, "It was an interesting lecture, wasn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," I mumble, trying not to give her too much satisfaction in my sudden change of heart. I mean, yes, that last guy sparked some very serious thoughts to consider, but it doesn't mean I have to surrender completely to the idea that this weekend's kidnapping/spiritual enlightenment retreat might have turned out to be a good idea after all.

"I think that thing he said at the end about finding the joy in your pain is very similar to what I always say: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Finding the yin to your yang is the same as finding the sugar and water for your lemonade. It's just a matter of turning something that once seemed negative into something positive."

I turn and look out the window, pretending to give her only half of my attention. "Yeah," I say offhandedly. "I suppose you're right."

Admitting to your parents that they're right is a slippery slope to tread and, in my opinion, not the most advisable course of action. But at that moment, I'm hardly concerned about overinflating my mother's ego.

Because there's something much bigger swirling around in my head. Something that has the potential to be _huge_. An idea that changes my outlook on everything and suddenly, like magic, makes this whole weekend actually feel worthwhile.

The sugar and water that will finally make my lemonade drinkable.

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	6. Waiting on the World to Change

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_6-_** Waiting **_on_** the**_ World _**to **_Change_

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_I texted Hinata, Ino and Tenten _in the car on the way home from the retreat and told them it was essential that they meet me here, in the food court of the Konoha valley mall, the minute Tenten's shift was over. Tenten works part-time at Daisuke's Weaponry, a popular weapons and knick-knack store in the mall, and gets great discounts on metal throwing stars, kunai and any other weapon—which she was ecstatic about, being the weapon-nut she is.

But despite my friends' insistent texts back requesting more information, I have yet to tell them about my latest world-changing stroke of brilliance.

"Now that we're assembled, I have something very important to talk to you about," I say purposefully as I slide into a seat at our table with a smoothie in hand.

Tenten slurps loudly on a milk shake. "Kami, Saks. We're not Congress. Just spill it out already."

Hinata reaches over and pats Tenten's arm. It's her subtle, mediator-style way of telling her to calm down and let me have my fifteen minutes without officially taking sides. Hinata has an excellent knack for balancing out the energy between us when things get tense.

And what I am about to say is also very much about a balancing act.

"Well, I've been thinking . . ." I allow my words to linger in the air for effect. "About the concept of Karma." I pronounce the magic word like I'm presenting it for the first time to the Webster's dictionary committee to be considered for inclusion in their latest edition.

"Now, I know Ino has mentioned the concept before, but this little retreat my mother just dragged me to provided me with an entirely new outlook on the word."

I stop and look at my three best friends. Their eyes are focused on me. Even Tenten's. As much as she might play the annoyed card with me, I have known Tenten for years and I can tell she is absolutely _dying_ to know what I'm about to say. Otherwise, she never would have shown up in the first place.

"Now," I continue, "last week, Ino assured me that Kiba will get what he deserves. That Karma will catch up to him. And I just wanted you both to know"—I take a long, deliberate pause and then a deep breath—"that I've decided to agree with that statement. Kiba _will _get what he deserves. Justice _will _be served, and he _will _feel the effects of his actions."

"Good!" Ino exclaims, smiling at me with a look of motherly pride on her face. As if I have just announced an accomplishment as difficult as climbing Mount Everest. "I'm glad you're finally starting to see the big picture."

I smile back. _"But"_—I pause dramatically and take a sip from my smoothie, allowing the cold, semi-frozen liquid to ooze down my throat before finishing the sentence—"I think it's going to happen a lot sooner than you might think."

I notice a devilish grin creep across Tenten's face. "Why? What did you hear? Is Ami Watanabe going to humiliate him in front of the whole school?"

I shake my head. "No," I say calmly. "But _we _are."

Tenten, Hinata and Ino exchange uncertain glances, each convinced that she misunderstood what I said and hoping to get some kind of clarification from the other.

"Huh?" Hinata asks, her face a jumbled-up pile of puzzle pieces. "What do you mean, _we _are?"

I take another sip from my cup. "Well, according to the Karma _expert _that led our lecture yesterday, the main principle behind the concept is balance. The universe balances itself out. Good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people. So the world isn't just one big lopsided place."

"Right . . . ," Ino agrees cautiously. "But what does this have to do with _us_?"

"I'm getting to that," I promise. "Basically, I think it's time to create a _new _Karmic tradition. One that's just our own. But that still follows the basic principles."

They all stare at me, clearly not comprehending what I'm alluding to at all. And I don't blame them. It's a tad far-fetched. But that doesn't change the fact that it is, in my humble opinion, beyond genius.

So I continue. "Personally, I'm tired of waiting for the universe to get off its butt and start fixing stuff. I don't want to wait around for Kiba to get what's coming to him. Or Ami Watanabe, for that matter. 'Cause who knows how long that will take? A month? A year? Five years? Ten? I could have kids of my own in high school by the time they both get what they deserve. And I don't want to wait that long. I want to be there to see it happen."

"But, Saks," Hinata cautions me, "that's just how Karma works, unfortunately. You kinda _have _to wait."

"Who says!" I shoot back, causing her to cower slightly behind her smoothie cup. "Who says that's how it has to work? The great and powerful gods of Karma? Who the heck are they? And if they're so good at what they do, what's taking them so long to do it?"

"It's only been a week, Saks," Tenten reminds me in a gentle tone that is terribly out of character for her. She's probably starting to worry about my mental well-being and has decided to err on the side of caution with a coddling approach.

"For me, yes. But what about _you_?" I turn and directly face her. "Do I have to remind you what Hidan did to you last year at junior prom?"

She bows slightly and shakes her head. I know that, as hard as she's tried, she just can't bring herself to fully forgive and forget the horrid night when Hidan got completely wasted behind the school with some of his friends and then came back inside and started to make a total scene on the dance floor. Tenten noticed the empty flask in his coat pocket and, not wanting him to get busted, attempted to sneak Hidan out of the gym without anyone noticing. But they got stopped by one of the faculty chaperones, who found the flask too and turned both of them over to the principal.

At school on Monday morning, the principal questioned them separately in his office, and while Tenten, in order to protect her boyfriend, stuck to the story she and Hidan had prepared over the weekend—that _neither _of them had been drinking and that they had found the empty flask on one of the tables—Hidan reported quite a different version. Knowing that Tenten was going to deny the whole thing, he saw the opportunity to remove himself from the equation and took it.

He told Dr. Sarutobi that the flask belonged to Tenten, that he confiscated it from her after he found her drunk in the hallway and was just trying to make sure she got home safely.

Tenten got a two-week suspension and the worst heartbreak of her life.

"What happened to him?" I prod her.

Tenten avoids my eyes and slurps her shake, clearly attempting to avoid this game. But I am more than happy to play it.

"What _happened _to him?" I press her again.

She takes a deep breath and surrenders to me. "He was chosen as the starting pitcher and captain of Konoha High's varsity baseball team this year."

"And?"

She sighs and mumbles. "And now he's dating Temari Sabaku, the head cheerleader."

I nod diplomatically, pretending to think long and hard about my next sentence. "Yep, sounds like he got _exactly _what he deserves."

Ino giggles beside me, and I immediately turn my attention to her, my next victim. "And you . . ."

She stops giggling and shoots me a clever smile. I can tell she's enjoying my charade. "Yes, Grim Reaper?"

"Has Sai been properly punished in your eyes for what he did to you?"

Ino snorts loudly and shakes her head. "Absolutely not."

"Because what is he doing now?" I ask rhetorically before answering my own question. "He's dating some sorority chick who goes to some university! Which _means _he gets to go to Delta Delta Delta parties nearly every weekend. Yep, sounds like Karma definitely got to him too!"

Then I focus my entire attention to Hinata, who was averting her eyes to avoid looking at me, but I wasn't letting it go that easily. They had to understand. "and let's not forget you, Hinata…"

"Yes?" Hinata looks up at me and starts twiddling with her thumbs— a nervous habit.

"Do you think Shino got what he deserves after he did?"

"U-um…"

"When he's the president of the school journalism and entomology, one of the most respected students by the teachers in the school, while still dating that other girl? No, of course not!"

By the end of my speech, Hinata was nodding firmly.

"What's your point, Saks?" Tenten snaps, rather impatiently.

I smile at her eagerness. The dramatic buildup is working out exactly as I intended it to.

"My point is: Guys have been screwing us over our entire lives. And we keep telling ourselves that they'll get what they deserve. That Karma will take its course. Because it makes us feel better long enough for us to shack up with a new and supposedly _better _loser, who will inevitably do the same thing to us.

"Well, _screw that_! It's time to make Karma work for _us_. Even that guru guy at the retreat said that it's up to us to find balance in our own lives. So I say, the responsibility to even out the playing field and reverse the imbalance in our lives does not belong to the universe. It belongs to us! We have to watch out for each other. Take care of each other. Because it's pretty darn clear that the boys aren't going to be the ones to do it. In the end, we only have our friends. And if we don't help each other out, no one will."

I take another long, drawn-out pause before finishing off my soapbox diatribe with the climactic clincher that I practiced in front of the mirror as soon as I got home from the retreat.

"It's time to start balancing out the universe."

All three stare at me for a few blank moments before Ino finally asks, "So you want to humiliate Kiba in the same way he humiliated you?"

I knew she'd be not only the first one to understand where I am going with this but also the first one to jump onboard with it.

"Exactly," I say authoritatively. "But not just Kiba. The rest of them too. Ami, Sai, Hidan _and_ Shino."

Ino bites her bottom lip anxiously as I watch her slip into a brief daydream, most likely about getting back at the guy who completely ruined her junior year of high school.

"But we have to make a pact," I say, pulling her back to the present. "A pact that only we know about. Like a secret, members-only club. A _Karma _Club. Whose sole purpose is to clean up the messes that the universe has been leaving behind."

"I am _so _with you," Ino says, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Count me in." Hinata says with a wide smile spreading across her face.

"Me too," Tenten says shortly after.

"Nice!" I exclaim, rubbing my hands together in a sinister way like Dr. Evil planning out his plot for world domination. I feel a tingling thrill run through my body. I knew my friends would support this idea. I never doubted that. But the rush that I feel when they actually confirm it is exhilarating.

I feel like I'm finally part of a team. A real team. Not the one-sided, dishonest team that turned out to be my relationship with Kiba. But a partnership based on trust and friendship and loyalty. And I have never loved my friends more than I do at this moment.

"But this has to be our secret," I remind them with a serious expression. "No one can know that we are in any way responsible for what is about to happen. Everything has to be completely and utterly anonymous. Untraceable. Otherwise, it wouldn't be Karma. It would just be three bitter girls trying to get back at a bunch of their ex-boyfriends and the girl who stole one of them, which isn't the point at all.

These people will never learn their lessons if they think that they're just part of an angry revenge scheme."

"Agreed," Ino says. "Absolute secrecy."

"Definitely," Tenten approves and Hinata nods resolutely.

"And may I also suggest another pact," I say smartly. "That we swear off all guys until after graduation. So we can stop the process dead in its tracks. Because if our experiences have proven anything to us, it's that high school boys are _all _heartbreakers."

Ino nods. "_Scumbags _is a better word."

"Amen," Tenten says with a scoff.

"…Right" Hinata follows with a moment's hesitation.

That's when I remember her moment with Naruto Uzumaki. For a moment, I wonder if this will affect her maybe-growing trust or comfortability with guys, but I quickly brush it aside for now.

"Good," I reply with satisfaction.

"So how do we do it?" Ino asks, ready to jump right in and get started. "How do we make them pay?"

"That's easy," I reply confidently before slurping up the last of my smoothie. This is the fun part. The part I've been waiting for all day. "We figure out what's most valuable to them . . . and we take it away."

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**From **_the_**Official **_Notebook_**of **_the _**Karma**_Club_

**Karmic Beneficiary #1**

_**Name:**_Kiba Inuzuka

_**Background:**_Ex-boyfriend of Sakura Haruno. Class president, member of the varsity soccer team, early acceptance to Konoha College.

_**Universal Imbalance:**_Cheated on Karma Club member with Ami Watanabe at Loft party.

_**Valued Possession: **_His new girlfriend

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	7. Operation Splitsville

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club **_written by- fourthfireshadow ___**Chapter **_7-_** Operation **_Splitsville_

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_From the moment _I wake up the following Monday morning, I can tell that it's going to be a good day.

Because today is the day we officially declare war. The afternoon in the food court was a week ago, and for the past seven days, my friends and I have spent all of our free time gathering information. Plotting our missions, strategizing our attacks, organizing our troops.

But most important, figuring out where and when to strike our four primary targets.

Because every successful military commander knows that a strategy is crucial to any battle. Which is why our first order of business for the Karma Club was to design a comprehensive battle plan that we carefully recorded in a small pink notebook we purchased especially for the occasion. This way we're more than prepared for what is about to come.

I manage to hit every single green light on the way to school, which is something that never happens. It's almost like the stars are lining up in my favor. The universe is responding to my proactive approach to balance.

I finally feel like I'm in control.

As I take my usual seat next to Ino in our first-period English class, I know that today this seat holds much more meaning than it ever did before. Because this seat in the third row, second from the end, which used to be simply the location of Ino's and my morning catch-up session, has now become something more than just a place for gossip.

It has become a stage. And the audience is the girl who sits directly in front of us.

Karin Hiiragizawa.

Otherwise known as Ami Watanabe's best friend. And we know that as soon as Karin's ears— which are constantly on the alert for new gossip—pick up the conversation we are about to have, she will waste no time repeating it to Ami. Of course, this is exactly what we're counting on.

The bell signaling the beginning of first period rings, and Karin slides into her usual seat in front of us as I turn and flash Ino a knowing smile.

We wait patiently until about twenty minutes into class, when Asuma-sensei is standing in the front of the room reading passionately from his copy of _Invisible Man_. That's when Ino inches closer to my desk and whispers, "Were you serious about what you said last night?"

I lean toward her and respond, "About what?"

"About how you used to check Kiba's e-mail."

I release a quiet giggle, the kind that is the perfect combination of shame and embarrassment, and then whisper back, "Yeah, I'm not proud of it, though. But with Kiba's track record, I kind of had to. How else would I have found out about his drop-dead-gorgeous pen pal from North America?"

Asuma-sensei finishes the passage he's reading and closes his book, holding it close to his chest. "So what did you think about the way the author used symmetry there to convey his struggle?"

Someone in the front of the class raises their hand and starts to answer the question, and Ino takes this opportunity to ask, "How did you figure out his password?"

I can see the back of Karin's head move ever so slightly in front of us, and I have a feeling that she's maneuvering herself to get a better listen.

So I giggle quietly and say, "Trust me, it wasn't hard. It's his last name and the year he was born. It only took me three tries to hack in. At first, I didn't find anything, but then I checked his Deleted Items folder. Because when guys are sneaking around, they'll usually remember to delete the original e-mail, but they'll almost _always _forget to empty the Deleted Items folder."

Ino laughs purposefully loud, attracting the attention of Asuma-sensei. "Excuse me, Yamanaka-san. Do you find something funny about Ayuzawa-san's answer?"

Ino quickly shakes her head and stares straight forward. "Of course not," she replies tactfully.

Asuma-sensei looks at her with skepticism. "Then I'll have to ask that you and Haruno-san save your private conversations for after class."

"Sorry," Ino mutters but then turns to me and from underneath her desk gives me a very enthusiastic thumbs-up. There's nothing like getting in trouble with your English teacher to help throw in that extra ounce of credibility.

I should probably mention though that the story about the password is not exactly true. I never went in search of Kiba's password, and there was never any American pen pal. But we had to find a way to give Ami (through Karin, of course) a reason to suspect Kiba in the first place and, consequently, we hoped, a reason to go snooping through his e-mail account.

The truth is, Kiba actually _gave _me his e-mail password once when he was lost and needed me to log in to his account to fetch some directions. In hindsight, if he knew what I was doing with it right now, this would probably seem like a really big mistake.

And it definitely came in handy last night when the three of us logged in and planted a not-so-innocent looking e-mail exchange between Kiba and some girl named Catherine Linton.

Of course, Catherine Linton doesn't really exist. Well, except as the main character of _Wuthering Heights_. But given the fact that I know for sure Kiba has never read that book, and Ami has probablynever read _a _book, I figured it was a safe pseudonym.

Now, all we have to do is wait and see if Karin Hiiragizawa, our unknowing messenger, delivers the information in a timely fashion.

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"_Who _is Catherine Linton?" Ami Watanabe's angered voice bellows down the hallway after lunch, effectively reaching everyone and anyone within a fifty-foot radius, including Ino and me, who are hidden safely behind a row of lockers, watching the blessed event unfold in front of us.

A few minutes ago, Tenten and Hinata witnessed Ami storming away from the computers in the library and heading in the direction of Kiba's locker, after which she immediately texted me to say that Phase One had been a success and that she would wait for my signal to launch into Phase Two.

I then grabbed Ino, and we hightailed it down to Kiba's locker, a place that I once visited with staggering frequency but that was now like a foreign country to me. One of those places Japanese citizens aren't even allowed to visit.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kiba replies to Ami with a slight chill in his voice. "But I think you should keep your voice down."

"Don't tell me to keep my voice down!" she screams back. "I want to know who this American chick is that you've been e-mailing!"

But Kiba simply shakes his head with a quiet frustration. "Ami, I haven't been e-mailing anyone, especially an American. I don't know what you're talking about."

She clearly is not satisfied with this response because she purses her lips tightly and glowers at him like she's attempting to burn a hole through his face with invisible laser beams implanted in her irises. "I can't believe you're just going to stand there and _lie _to me."

He stares into his locker, almost as if he's trying to intentionally block out the sound of Ami's piercing voice. This, of course, infuriates her even more. "I'm not lying to you," he says, attempting to remain calm. "I told you, I haven't been e-mailing anyone."

"Uh-huh. Right." Ami crosses her arms over her chest and stands defiantly in front of him. "So that would explain why there's an entire chain of e-mails between the two of you in your account."

"And how would you know that?" Kiba throws the question back at her like a loaded water balloon, ready to burst open and soak both of them.

Ami rolls her eyes and pouts. "You left your e-mail open on my computer last night. I thought it was _my _account until I started reading some of the e-mails and realized that it was yours."

Kiba studies her with great interest, seemingly trying to decide if he is going to buy this explanation or not. Of course, it's a blatant lie.

"Well, I don't know what you _think _you saw," he says to her, "but I don't know anyone named Catherine whatever."

I turn to Ino and raise my eyebrows questioningly at her. She nods back, and I quickly take my cell phone out of my pocket and type the words "Phase Two go" into a text message and send it to Tenten and Hinata.

"Yeah, like I'm supposed to believe that," Ami replies, turning and leaning against a locker.

Kiba takes a deep breath, closes his locker, and faces her. "Ami," he begins, a bit more softly, reaching out to touch her hair. "I'm telling you the truth. Why would I need anyone else when I have you?"

And there they were. The exact words Kiba had used on me only three weeks ago. And I had believed them. Wholeheartedly. Like a total idiot.

Part of me wants to throw up right there in the hallway. Another part of me wants to break down into tears and run the other way. Because as preoccupied and distracted as I've been with setting up this little charade, the very sight of Kiba and Ami together still wrecks my insides.

You can't be with someone for two years and just erase them from your heart in a matter of a couple weeks. No matter what kind of Karmic retribution you have in store for them. It simply doesn't work that way.

But just as the vomit is rising in my throat and the tears are starting to well up in my eyes, a beeping sound disrupts my thoughts and I'm suddenly thrown right back into the moment. Kiba reaches into his pocket and pulls out his familiar black cell phone. Before he even has a chance to look at the screen, Ami grabs it from his hands and takes it upon herself to look instead.

Then, upon reading the text message on the screen, she throws the phone directly at Kiba's face. He raises his hands to block the projectile object, causing it to bounce off his palms, fall to the floor, and break into two pieces.

Then she stalks off, leaving Kiba with nothing but a pained expression and a broken cell phone.

Ino and I don't need to see the now-busted screen to know what the text message said. Because we wrote it ourselves. And Tenten and Hinata just sent it from a computer terminal in the library, using a Web site that sends free anonymous text messages to any phone number you enter.

Although this particular text message wasn't exactly anonymous.

It was signed "Catie" (short for Catherine). And it was right on time.

_**Universe Balanced.**_

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**From**___the___**Official**___Notebook _**of**___the _**Karma **_Club_

**Karmic Beneficiary #2**

_**Name:**___Ami Watanabe

_**Background:**___New girlfriend of Karmic Beneficiary #1. Beautiful, popular, and completely insufferable.

_**Known hobbies:**_ Gossiping about people behind their backs

_**Universal Imbalance:**___Seduced and stole club member's boyfriend after his social status was elevated through successful magazine placement

_**Valued Possession:**___Her flawless skin

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	8. Operation Butter-Face

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

**Extra- **okay, so most of you are getting kinda impatient for _The Sasuke Uchiha_ to finally make an appearance, and I apologize for making you wait 7 chapters. Though his scene is not much, hope it's enough for this chapter. From now on, he'll be one of the regulars!

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_8-_** Operation **_Butter-_**Face**

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_The bell rings _at the end of the day, and I make my way to the counseling office to pick up my tutoring schedule from Akira-san, the guidance counselor, who manages all of the student tutors. But when I pop my head inside his office, I find that it's empty. I quickly look around the office for him, and I eventually spot him standing with his back to me at the copy machine.

I walk over and tap him gently on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Akira-san, I'm here to pick up my check for the last—"

But when he turns around, I see that it's not Mr. Wilson. It's actually _Sasuke Uchiha_, of all people.

Also known as Karin Hiiragizawa's current boyfriend, or the hottest guy in the city, or the guy whose parents own the Loft—a place that I've recently decided I no longer care for.

I nearly gasp when I see his face and my eyes widen involuntarily. Which honestly is really lame. Who gasps at the sight of someone as good-looking as Sasuke Uchiha? Actually, now that I think about it, a lot of girls.

Granted, he's not the nicest, most gentlemanly person in the world, but that still doesn't take away from the fact that he has a near perfect face. Scratch that— he _does_ have a perfect face.

With creamy pale skin, deep almond-shaped onyx eyes that look like you could drown in them, thin lips and an aristocratic nose, fully straight. Maybe the rumors _doesn't_ do him justice. I kind of feel small.

"Hey," he says, slightly smirking.

"You're not Akira-san," I reply immediately.

He chuckles. "Can't argue with you there."

Instantly, I feel totally stupid. Well,_ duh._

"Although," he continues, "I'm not sure how thrilled I am about being mistaken for a forty-year-old guidance counselor."

"Oh," I stammer, looking at my feet, as if they might provide me with a viable excuse. "It's just that . . . you know, you have the same hair color. And, um . . . you're about the same height. You know . . ."

I eventually give up on trying to come up with a coherent sentence and simply ask him flat out, "What are you doing in here?"

Of course this is another incredibly stupid thing to say. Because I don't actually have a say on who is officially allowed or not allowed inside the counseling office. Not like some people I know who require a guest list to get into one of their stupid parties.

"Just making some copies," he says with a raised dark eye-brow, pointing at the copier.

Well, that much is pretty obvious. What I really want to ask is "Don't you have a personal assistant to do this kind of stuff for you? Or doesn't your dad own a copy store somewhere?" But the only thing that comes out is "Oh, right."

Then I stand there, not sure what to say or do next, so I stare down at my feet again. It was really awkward. I mean, what could you possibly say to one of the high school royalties?

"Mind if I finish?" he asks, clearly mocking me, his eyes lit with amusement. I could feel a pink tinge creeping into my cheeks.

"Oh . . . um . . . yeah. I mean, of course. Whatever," I mumble as I turn and walk back to the waiting area, where I take a seat on the couch to wait for the _real _Akira-san to return from wherever he has magically disappeared to.

But all I can think about is how stupid I must have sounded to Sasuke Uchiha and how he must think I'm such a total loser.

And then I wonder why I even care.

Particularly when I have so many other more important things on my plate. Like tonight's mission at Ami Watanabe's house, which is sure to turn her life in a very different direction.

So whatever Sasuke Uchiha happens to think or not think about me doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It's not like I'm expecting an invitation back to the Loft anytime soon.

Not that I would go anyway. And I don't care what he thinks about me anyway.

Now if only I could convince myself of that.

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I arrive at Ino's house at six on the dot, dressed in what she calls "night camouflage." Basically it's just a fancy way of saying all black. Black pants, a black, long-sleeve T-shirt, and black socks and sneakers.

Despite my protests, Ino insisted on the ensemble because of a scene she saw once in an old movie where some guy was sneaking around outside in the dark and the black helped hide him from view.

As soon as I reach the top of the stairs, I can see that Tenten and Hinata are already waiting anxiously in Ino's bedroom. Hinata was pacing quietly, biting her nails and Tenten was perched on the edge of the bed, holding tightly to a plastic supermarket bag full of "ingredients" for tonight's assignment. From the ruthless way she's clutching the bag, you would think she's guarding top-secret documents for the president.

When I sit down next to Tenten, I attempt to peek inside the bag, but she is quick to whisk it out from under me. Then she stands up and flashes all of us a wry smile. "Ready to play pharmacist?" she asks with a quick raise of her eyebrows.

The four of us pile into Ino's bathroom, Ino, Hinata and I both keeping our eyes locked obsessively on the plastic bag in Tenten's hand. As the official mall employee, Tenten assured us that she would handle all the "arrangements" for tonight's assignment, and every time we badgered her for details, she would interrupt us by coolly raising her palm in the air and saying, "I told you I would handle it." So even though I knew the objective of tonight's mission and the general outline of its execution, I was still mostly in the dark when it came to the specifics.

Tenten continues to hold tight to the handles of the shopping bag as I strain to see through the thick white plastic. But my attempts are to no avail. Apparently, Tenten had enough foresight to request a double bagging job at the store. She's just that good.

"Okay," Tenten begins, bringing all of our focus from the bag to her face. "We all know why we're here." She reaches into the bag and pulls out a pamphlet. She places it on the countertop with a purposeful tap, and Ino, Hinata and I scurry closer to get a better look. It's a trifold, glossy brochure covered in colorful photographs and purple text. The word MYZACLIN is printed in bold letters across the top.

"This is a brochure for maximum-strength Myzaclin," she explains informatively. "Distributed to pharmacies and drugstores across the country, including the pharmacy in our mall."

The three of us nod our heads eagerly but remain silent.

"As I explained to you last week," Tenten goes on, eyeing us with a serious expression, "maximum strength Myzaclin is prescribed by dermatologists to treat severe acne and other unwanted skin blemishes." She pauses to take an extended breath. "Our very own queen, Ami Watanabe, despite what she might like us to believe, is one of those said prescription holders."

Thanks to Tenten's cousin's quarter-time job at Miller's Drug Store, she knows what kinds of drugs most of the people in our town are on. And every time Ami's mom comes in to refill her daughter's prescription, Tenten catches sight of the information sheet stapled to the side of the pharmacy bag when she rings up the purchase.

This is how we know that Ami Watanabe's staggering, model-worthy good looks, not to mention her permanent position at the top of the Konoha High social ladder, were not achieved entirely on her own.

Ami actually owes most of her beauty queen status to a little white and purple jar of acne cream. The same one that is pictured on the inside of the brochure that Tenten has now flipped open and is pointing to with smooth, fluid movements, like a poised and elegant flight attendant pointing out the emergency exits. Very _un_-Tenten, to be honest.

But she seems to be taking great satisfaction in exhibiting the various aspects of the brochure as she eloquently explains, "Myzaclin is a very strong medication. Basically, it's what you get prescribed when your face looks like the view from space of a snowcapped mountain range."

A snorted giggle escapes my lips as the grin on Hinata's face continues to grow larger. Ino looks over at me and playfully bumps my shoulder.

"But tonight," Tenten continues passionately with one finger raised in the air, "we are going to replace it with something even . . . _stronger_." She waits for a moment before reaching into the bag again. I can feel Ino's body stiffen next to mine. All three of us follow Tenten's hand with our eyes as she rustles around in the shopping bag and finally pulls out a large, heavy object and plops it down on the countertop next to the brochure.

I stare questioningly at the blue and white metal canister that is now sitting in Ino's bathroom, looking terribly out of place next to her ceramic flat iron and various shades of eye shadow.

"Crisco?" I ask, looking expectantly at Tenten for an explanation. "You made us wait all this time for Crisco?"

Ino seems to have caught on much faster than I did; suddenly she breaks out into loud, hysterical laughter. "Oh my God!" she exclaims. "It's genius."

Hinata and I look frantically from her to Tenten. "Wait . . . what? Why is Crisco genius?" Hinata asks, her confusion obvious.

Tenten quickly pops the top off the canister and tilts it toward us. "As you can see, it's white and creamy in consistency and it's made of one hundred percent vegetable _oil_."

"Which should never be applied to your skin," I state with instant realization.

"Well," Ino muses. "Unless, of course, you want your face to look like a snowcapped mountain range."

The four of us break into laughter that lasts for a good two minutes. Once we've finally calmed down and gotten past our fit of giggles, Tenten reaches back into the bag and pulls out a small Tupperware bowl and a plastic spoon. She pops the lid off the bowl and starts to spoon huge, buttery gobs of Crisco into it.

The three of us watch gleefully as she stirs up the Crisco with the spoon. "The consistency has to be _just _right so that it resembles the acne cream in the photograph," Tenten says, motioning toward the brochure and then reaching back into the shopping bag and this time pulling out a small tube of leave-in hair conditioner.

She unscrews the top and squeezes about half of the tube into the Tupperware bowl. "The Crisco alone is not smooth enough. The conditioner will also help mask the smell of the shortening." She mixes expertly with her plastic spoon as she speaks. I can tell she's enjoying this immensely. Probably more than I am.

When she's satisfied with her concoction, she carefully lays the spoon inside the Tupperware bowl and replaces the plastic lid with a firm pat. Then she reaches out and hands the container to me. "You know what you're supposed to do now, right, Saks?"

I bite my lip and take the container from her. "Yes." But my voice wavers a bit more than I planned.

Tenten catches on to my uneasiness and removes a folded-up piece of paper from the shopping bag. With an impatient sigh, she unfolds it and spreads it out on the counter. "Okay, let's look at the map again."

I lean forward and study the multicolored diagram that Tenten has sketched of the first floor of Ami Watanabe's house. Tenten turns the page around so that the little mahogany-colored rectangle labeled "Front Door" is closest to me. "Here's where we park." She points to a circular driveway in front of the house. "If you pull the car to this far side of the circle, it will be unseen from the front door."

With eyes wide, I nod compliantly.

Tenten traces a line with her finger around the side of the house and stops at a smaller violet-colored square at the back that has been marked with a large gold asterisk. "And here is Ami's bathroom window. It's fairly low to the ground, so you should have no trouble climbing through."

Because Tenten and Ami used to be best friends, Tenten had practically grown up in the Campbell house and knew the layout almost as well as her own. Ever since the start of this particular mission, I've had a feeling that Tenten's motives for getting revenge on Ami Watanabe might be even stronger than mine.

Although she claims that Ami is not worth the saliva it takes to gossip about her, _I'm _not the one who sketched out a detailed blueprint of her house using what looks like, judging by the diversity of color, at least a sixty-four-count crayon set. So I'm not exactly sure whose payback initiative this really is.

Not that it matters. I'm sure Ami Watanabe has a _long _list of outstanding Karmic retribution that extends far beyond our little circle.

"Do you want to take the map with you?" Tenten asks, folding it back up and handing it to me.

I shake my head. "No. I think I got it."

Seemingly satisfied, Tenten tosses the map back into the shopping bag. "Okay, then. I guess it's show-time."

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By the time the three of us pile into my car and drive the two miles to Ami Watanabe's, the sun has completely set and darkness has almost entirely settled in. The butterflies in my stomach are already starting to take flight, beating their wings softly at first but with the promise of a much more tumultuous journey ahead. The Tupperware bowl filled with our secret weapon is resting safely in my lap as I steer the car into the Watanabe' driveway and Tenten directs me to our predetermined parking place. We know from overhearing a conversation in the hallway that Ami is at Karin's house tonight, we hope commiserating over her looming breakup with Kiba.

Tenten starts to instruct me as she unbuckles her seat belt. "Once we're through the door, count to one hundred and then sneak around the back to the bathroom window."

I nod again. "Got it."

Tenten pulls a clipboard out of her backpack and hands it to Hinata in the backseat. "Ready?"

Ino grins and Hinata nods as she takes the clipboard and swings the car door open. "Absolutely."

I fidget nervously in my seat as I watch them walk up to the front door and ring the bell. I can feel my pulse quicken when I see Mrs. Watanabe appear and welcome her unexpected visitors. From inside the car, I can't hear what's being said, but I can see Ino pointing at the clipboard in Hinata's hand, while Tenten stands to the side, nodding along.

If they're following the script we wrote the other night, she's most likely describing the survey they're conducting for an economics class project on spending habits. And then they'll explain how helpful it would be if Mrs. Watanabe could answer some simple questions about her everyday purchases.

I watch as Mrs. Watanabe smiles obligingly, and I can actually read her lips as she says, "Of course," and swings the door open wider, allowing Ino, Hinata and Tenten to enter the house.

I take a deep breath and slowly count to one hundred before quietly opening the car door and stepping out on the driveway. I'm suddenly very appreciative of the hideous black sneakers Ino insisted I wear, because the rubber soles seem to absorb the sound of my feet making contact with the pavement.

At approximately this moment, Tenten will be asking Mrs. Watanabe if she can use the bathroom. Then she'll slip out of the kitchen, make her way to Ami's bathroom, and open the window for me to climb through.

Because of my less-than-pleasant recent history with Kiba and Ami, it was unanimously decided that I should not, under any circumstances, be seen by anyone in that house. If Ami's mom just happened to say something to her daughter about me stopping by (regardless of whatever bogus schoolproject- related reason we managed to come up with), suspicions would automatically be raised and everything could fall apart. Therefore, it was decided that I would enter the premises through _alternate_ means.

I make my way around the side of the house, holding tightly to the Tupperware container and being careful to duck under the ground-floor windows. As I slink under the one that the diagram labeled as the kitchen, I can hear Ino's voice saying, "Yes, Honey Nut Cheerios seems to be a popular choice for families. Seven out of the ten houses we've been to so far have had at least some variety of Cheerios in their pantries. Now, if you could show me what kind of dish soap you use."

As was expected, with her impeccable acting skills, Ino is pulling off the charade flawlessly. Plus, nobody could ever resist Hinata's sweet angel-like face.

It takes me a little while to reach the back of the house. Partly because I'm moving at a very cautious pace, so as to not make any unnecessary noise, but mostly because of the sheer size of this place.

I'm just rounding the corner of the house and can see the gold-asterisked window from the map when I'm suddenly struck with a very disturbing thought. I stop and warily glance around me. Just as Tenten's diagram illustrated, the house backs up to a small forest. This means that, fortunately, there are no neighboring houses to serve as potential witnesses to what I'm about to do. Although that was a comforting thought back when the mission was designed, now that I'm actually here, with my hand physically _touching _the stucco exterior of the house, I can't help but feel a giant rock forming in the pit of my stomach. As if the million butterflies that were fluttering around suddenly decided to stop dead in their tracks and bunch together into one giant, burdening lump of mass.

_What if I get caught?_

What if my "night camouflage" isn't enough and someone actually _sees _me? Could I actually go to _jail _for something like this?

_No! _I hear a voice argue back indignantly. _That's ridiculous. _Mrs. Watanabe would never allow that.

Obviously, I would just have to make up some lame excuse as to why I happened to be climbing through her daughter's bathroom window . . . dressed entirely in black. Surely there has to be a believable explanation for that.

But my mind is completely blank. Because the truth is, there is no plausible excuse for something like that. At least not one that doesn't make me sound like a crazy psychopath stalker.

Maybe Tenten, Hinata and Ino will send me care packages in prison. Ones with real soap and yummy-smelling lotions to counteract the stench of my dirty orange jumpsuit. Maybe my little sister, Moegi, will be a pal and slip a metal spoon into the bottom of a gift basket so I can dig my way out of my cell over the course of the next five years.

In my mind, I'm just starting to rehearse what I'll say to my family when they come visit me in prison when I see the window in front of me slide open and Tenten's bun- head pops into view. She waves hastily and beckons me closer. I quickly blink out of my trance and remind myself that we don't have time for this kind of paranoia. I diligently push the fears from my mind and scurry toward the open window.

I hand the Tupperware bowl to Tenten and then hoist myself up onto the ledge. Headfirst and slightly less gracefully than I envisioned, I heave the top half of my body through the open window. Momentarily suspended in the air with my feet outside the house and my torso inside, I'm even more grateful for the fact that there are no houses behind me. At least no one can see my big black butt hanging uncoordinatedly out of Ami's bathroom window.

Tenten grabs both of my hands and pulls the rest of my body through as I slide awkwardly onto a soft and fluffy white bath mat that seems to be strategically placed there just for me . . . like a very chic landing pad.

Once fully inside and back on my feet, I take a moment to glance at my surroundings. The walls are painted a velvety shade of sky blue accented with dark wooden cabinets and mirror frame. There are several tea light candles in shallow wooden cups lining the countertop and plush white towels hanging from the rack.

_Even Ami Watanabe's _bathroom _is perfect, _I think.

"C'mon," Tenten hisses impatiently, snapping me back to reality. "What are you waiting for? Help me look for it!"

I tear my eyes away from the miniature banana tree in the corner of the room and notice that Tenten has already started frantically searching through cabinets and drawers. I quickly join in, scouring the contents under the sink for something that resembles the picture in the brochure.

"Got it!" I hear Tenten's hoarse whisper come from above my head. I see her pull the familiar-looking white and purple plastic jar from the medicine cabinet and place it on the counter. She wastes no time uncapping the Tupperware container.

"Okay," she whispers excitedly. "Let's make the switch and get the heck out of here."

The butterflies are now back and flitting happily around in my stomach as I remove the lid of the Myzaclin jar.

_This is really happening! _I think to myself. _It's actually going to work!_

But when I look into the open jar, my breath suddenly catches in my throat, and my whole body turns cold.

Tenten is standing poised next to me, plastic spoon in hand, prepared to scoop out the contents of the jar, wash it down the drain, and replace it with our improved concoction.

"Uh . . . Tennie?" I manage to say weakly, without making eye contact. "There's a _slight _problem."

Tenten cocks her head to the side and glares at me with an impatient look. "What?"

I hold out the open jar for her to look inside and see what I see. "It's green," I tell her apologetically.

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. "Green? What the . . ." Then she violently rips the jar from my hands and holds it closer to her face, tilting it at different angles. As if the light reflection might actually cause it to change color. But of course, it doesn't. _"I don't understand, how could it be green?!"_ she shrieks loudly. Much _too _loudly.

In a panic, I reach out and put my hand over her mouth. "Shhh!"

"I don't understand," she whines, much quieter. "All the pictures in the brochure show _white _cream!"

I take the jar from her and study it. Something immediately catches my eye, and I point toward a small line of text on the label. "Now with soothing cucumber extract," I read aloud. "That's probably where the green is coming from."

Tenten grabs it back from me once again and reads the label for herself. "Crap!" she yells softly. "This must be some new variation or something. What the heck are we supposed to do now? We can't replace green face cream with white face cream!"

At this moment, it's almost as if Tenten and I have entered some kind of strange parallel role-reversal universe. Because for the first time in the history of our friendship, she's the one who's totally freaking out while I seem to be struck with an unusual air of calmness.

"Well," I say with a deep breath. "I guess we'll just have to find some green food coloring."

Forty-five seconds later, Tenten and I have hastily laid out a very rushed but seemingly feasible plan of action. When she rejoins Hinata and Ino—who I'm sure is quickly running out of bogus questions to ask Ami's mom in the kitchen—I listen quietly at the bathroom door for my cue.

After a few moments of muted small talk coming from the end of the hallway, I hear Tenten say loudly (for my benefit), "Um, wait a minute. Hinata, you forgot to ask Mrs. Watanabe about her laundry detergent."

There's a short silence, in which Hinata is most likely shooting Tenten a puzzled or a nervous look and Tenten is probably trying desperately to convince her with her eyes to just go with it. I'm assuming it worked, because I soon hear Ino play along with "Oh, right. I don't know how we could have forgotten. Do you mind if we visit the laundry room now?"

I duck my head out of the bathroom and see Mrs. Watanabe, Ino, Hinata and Tenten step into another room.

Then Tentan's arm shoots back into the hallway as if it is no longer attached to her body and her hand motions quickly to me before closing the door behind her.

I dart quietly into the kitchen and immediately start opening cabinets around the oven, next to the sink, and over the dishwasher. It certainly doesn't help that the kitchen is large enough to cook for an entire army despite the fact that the Watanabe family is made up of a humble three people.

_Okay, think, _I sternly command myself. _Where does my mom keep the food coloring?_

For some reason, I can picture it in the pantry, on the shelf with the baking items. I close my eyes momentarily and try to see it in front of me. Baking powder, baking soda, salt . . . food coloring. Yes! I'm sure of it.

As soon as I open my eyes again, they land on a pair of white doors on the far side of the kitchen. I race across the tile floor, careful not to squeak in my rubber-soled black sneakers, and swing the double doors open. In one glance, I know I've located the pantry. I quickly skim the shelves, row by row, until I come across the familiar labels and brand names of popular baking ingredients.

And then, there it is: food coloring in assorted colors. I breathe a loud sigh of relief as I reach for the green box and hightail it out of the kitchen.

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By the time I squeeze out the window and make it back around the house, all three of them are at the front door with Mrs. Watanabe I wait behind a giant pine tree and listen as Ami's mother rambles on about something and then finally says, "Well, I hope I was able to help."

"Oh, you certainly did," I hear Hinata responds with her sweet innocent charm as she steps off the front stoop. "Thanks again."

As soon as the front door closes, I emerge from behind the tree and hurry toward the car. Once we're inside, I screech out of the Watanabe' driveway faster than you can say "maximum-strength Myzaclin."

No one speaks for a good two minutes as we drive in mutually stunned silence. Finally, once we're out on the main road, Tenten says, "Well, that was probably the most excitement I've had in a long time. I think I just lost ten pounds in ten minutes."

I stop the car at a red light and turn toward her, prepared to let all my anxiety and pent-up fear just flow out of me. But as soon as I look at her, I burst out laughing. Ino, Hinata and Tenten exchange cautious glances but then quickly join in until finally the four of us are giggling uncontrollably in the car.

"You should have seen Tenten's face when I told her the Myzaclin was green!"

More laughter.

As I giggle, I think about the green acne cream that is now floating somewhere in the pipes underneath Ami Watanabe's house and the green-dyed Crisco and hair conditioner that now sits in its place.

"Definitely worth it," I say with a smile.

Ino catches her breath. "Definitely. And now it'll only be a matter of time before people start calling her Butter Face."

The light turns green and I step on the gas, wrinkling up my forehead in confusion as I look at Ino in the rearview mirror. "Why would they do that? It's not like anyone's gonna _know _what we replaced her prescription with."

"No," she replies. "Don't you know that saying 'She's a total butter face'?"

I shake my head. "No."

"You know, as in 'She's got a nice body, _but her _face . . .' "

_**Universe Balanced.**_

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	9. Charmed, I'm Sure

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_9-_** Charmed, **_I'm _**sure**

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_Okay, so it's _not like I expected to come to school the next day and find the entire universe turned upside down. An alternate reality in which Ami Watanabe(sporting at least one very unbecoming facial blemish) is no longer the most popular girl in school and Kiba is off crying in the corner somewhere. I know that these kinds of things take time.

But what I definitely didn't expect to see was Kiba and Ami making out in front of her locker. Not because that's so entirely tacky, not to mention, um, hello, eighth grade, but because I thought that we had put an end to Ami and Kiba yesterday. Or at least put the wheels in motion to set them down the steady track that would lead them to the end.

But these are definitely not the signs of a couple on the verge of a split. They're actually quite the opposite. And the whole thing is making me just the slightest bit nauseated.

I mean, from the way they're acting right now, you would think that nothing even happened yesterday. That Catherine Linton doesn't even exist. Well, technically she doesn't, but you know what I mean.

"What's the deal?" Tenten says at lunchtime as the three of us sit there, practically staring at the table where Kiba and Ami are in the middle of another disgusting public display of affection.

I turn my head away from the disturbing image and sulk in my seat. "Yeah, seriously. Kiba always hated PDAs when we were dating. Now he's practically the spokesperson for them."

"But, I mean, _why _are they still together, acting like nothing has happened?" Tenten reiterates.

" she looked like she was ready to throw him off a cliff." Hinata quipped.

I sigh and look down at my carefully made peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Suddenly, I don't have much of an appetite. I push it away and fold my arms across my chest.

Ino digs her fork into a questionable-looking plate of mac and cheese from the cafeteria. "Well, I can tell you what I heard today in second period, but you're not going to like it."

Tenten, Hinata and I all focus our attention on Ino, our eyes wide with curiosity.

Ino nods, like she was afraid she might get that reaction, and says, "I overheard someone say that Kiba totally sweet-talked her out of being mad. Went to find her at Karin's house with flowers, apology speeches, the works."

I can feel the tears start to sting the corners of my eyes. "I can't believe that!" I shriek, causing a few people from nearby tables to turn and stare. I lower my voice a few decibels. "She gets flowers and prepared apology speeches after a stupid e-mail exchange and a text message, and I get radio silence for a week followed by a lame I-want-my-stuff-back visit after a full-blown, catch-'em-in-the-act betrayal. That's total crap!"

Tenten, Hinata and Ino exchange uneasy glances. Clearly, they weren't prepared for this outburst. "Don't worry," Ino says gently, reaching across the table and patting my hand. "He'll get what's coming to him. Remember? You said it yourself."

"Yeah, but it's not working. Look at them!"

"We just need to think of more things to do," Tenten says. "Maybe e-mails and a text message weren't enough."

I bow my head, dejected. "Yeah, maybe."

"We'll brainstorm on it more tonight," Hinata quietly suggests. "When we finalize the details for Operation Cross-Dresser."

All of our missions are given code names. Mostly so we can talk about them at school without the risk of anyone figuring out what we're up to. But also because Operation Cross-Dresser or Operation Butter Face just sounds much better and more exciting than something like "Tonight we're gonna replace Ami's acne medication with Crisco."

Although, that one does sound pretty hilarious.

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Once we are gathered in Ino's bedroom after school that day, I clear my throat to get all of my best friends attention and say, "Before we get started tonight, I have a little surprise for the three of you."

Ino grabs a slice of pizza from the delivery box sitting on the floor and takes a bite. "What kind of surprise?"

From inside my backpack, I remove four jewelry boxes gift-wrapped in shiny silver paper and topped off with bright pink bows. I hand one to Ino, one to Hinata, one to Tenten and the other I hold on my lap for myself.

I ordered the gifts online the night we formed the Karma Club, and they had finally arrived in the mail yesterday.

"What is it?" Ino asks as she holds the box up to her ear like she's expecting to hear a ticking bomb inside.

"Just a small token of our alliance," I reply.

Tenten tears the wrapping off of hers first and gasps when she opens the box and peers inside. "Oh my God!"

"Don't tell me," Hinata yells, shielding her eyes from Tenten's unwrapped gift and turns away from her to open the wrapping paper.

Ino finally stops shaking hers, carefully removes the wrapping paper, and opens the box to reveal a sterling silver charm bracelet inside.

"Wow! Saks, it's beautiful!"

"I thought you guys would like them," I say.

I used up the very last remaining cent in my bank account to buy three identical four bracelets with, as of right now, the same lonely charm hanging from each of them.

"I _love _it!" Tenten exclaims.

"I figured we could add to them every time we successfully accomplished one of our Karmic goals," I explain as Tenten, Hinata and Ino remove the bracelets from their boxes and admire them. I pick up the box in my lap and, despite the fact that I already know exactly what's inside, rip off the wrapping paper like a little girl expecting a new bicycle on Christmas morning. I remove my matching bracelet from the box and clasp it around my wrist.

Ino and Hinata quickly follows suit and then holds her wrist up in front of her face so she can examine it further.

"What does this charm mean?" Hinata asks, fingering the small half-black, half-white circle that hangs from her bracelet.

"It's called a Yin-Yang," I explain expertly, trying to sound exactly like Rajiv, my Karma guru. "It's a symbol for harmony and balance. And it's there to remind us that for every bad thing that happens, there is an equal and opposite good thing waiting just around the corner. All we have to do is find it."

"That's awesome," Tenten replies. "Did you learn that at Camp Karma?"

I laugh. "I did actually."

We admire the bracelets for another ten minutes, discussing what the perfect charms would be for each of the five missions we already have planned, and then Ino reminds us that we have to go over the final details for our payback mission against Hidan Fujitaka this Saturday.

I pull our official Karma Club notebook out of my backpack and flip open to the next blank page so I can record the details of our discussion. And although we make significant progress on Operation Cross- Dresser, the rest of the night unfortunately yields no results pertaining to our little problem with Kiba and Ami. Namely that they're still together.

Many suggestions are thrown out there and then discarded because they violate our strict rule of anonymity. We can't do anything that might cause Kiba to suspect I'm behind it. Like put roses in his locker with a card from Catherine Linton. Because Kiba knows that I'm the only other person who has his locker combination besides the school administration staff, so he'd easily connect the dots to me.

We also think about just sending more e-mails and text messages but quickly rule that option out because whatever Kiba is doing to convince Ami he's innocent is clearly working.

So by the end of the night we are back to square one. Meaning that for the next three days before the weekend arrives I am forced to watch Kiba and Ami make a spectator sport out of their loving affectionate relationship. Which I think in some countries is probably considered cruel and unusual punishment.

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**From**_ the _**Official **_Notebook _**of**_ the _**Karma **_Club  _**Karmic Beneficiary #3**

_**Name: **_Hidan Fujitaka

_**Background:**_Ex-boyfriend of Tenten Li. Starting pitcher for Konoha High's varsity baseball team. Currently dating Temari Sabaku, head cheerleader.

_**Universal Imbalance:**_Sold out club member during junior prom drinking fiasco in order to preserve his own reputation.

_**Valued Possession:**_His spot on the varsity team.

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	10. Operation Cross-Dresser

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_10-_** Operation **_Cross-_**Dresser**

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_When Saturday afternoon _arrives, I manage to put my obsession with breaking up Kiba and Ami on hold so that I can focus on our current mission against Hidan Fujitaka.

At one o'clock, Hinata, Ino and I are back in the mall food court with Hinata while she's on her lunch break to discuss last-minute details about today's operation.

"Are you sure she got the postcard?" I ask Hinata as I pop a French fry into my mouth.

Hinata sips on her soda and nods. "Definitely," she says after swallowing. "I sent it out a few days ago, and I overheard Temari mention it yesterday when she was at Hidan's locker."

Fortunately for the Karma Club, Hinata's locker happens to be exactly three lockers down from Hidan's. This proved to be a problem at the beginning of the year because Tenten refused to go anywhere near it in fear of running into her dreaded ex. So we were always forced to congregate around her locker. But lately it's proven to be more of an asset than a liability because Hinata has been able to overhear several of Hidan Fujitaka's conversations over the past two weeks. One of which was between Hidan and his girlfriend, who was planning to drag him with her on one of her infamous shopping excursions this weekend.

Hidan wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea, but after Temari whined incessantly for several minutes, complaining that he never takes any interest in the things she likes to do, he eventually gave in and agreed to come to the mall with her today.

This invaluable information then provided the foundation for our mission. Hinata had, with another stroke of pure luck, landed a job as a cashier in a classy lingerie store called Eve's Closet. So during one of her breaks, she had artfully snuck into the Eve's Closet's manager's office and "borrowed" one of the 50 percent off anything in the store promotional postcards that the manager only sends out to special customers. We then addressed the postcard to Temari Sabaku and filled in the expiration date with today's date. So if Temari wanted to get her 50 percent off Eve's Closet merchandise, today would be the day to do it.

"Don't worry," Ino assures me as she scrunches up the wrapper of her sandwich. "Temari will be coming in the store today, and she's bringing Hidan." Then Ino launches into an imitation that she refers to as her _Godfather _voice and says, "It was an offer she couldn't refuse."

"Okay, good," I reply. "So what do Tenten and I have to do?"

"Well," Ino responds thoughtfully, "Tenten has to be completely out of sight. If she is in any way connected to the crime scene, he'll immediately suspect something is up."

Tenten nods. "She's right. I'll hang out in the store across the way and text you when I see them enter Eve's Closet."

"Good idea," Ino says, pointing at Tenten with authority, like she's presiding over a board meeting at a Fortune 500 corporation. Then she turns to me. "And you. You can be on watch in the store. I'll need an extra pair of eyes in there. Hinata will be doing her job, so she won't be able to keep tabs on Hidan the entire time. Ergo, we both will be the scouts."

"No problem."

"But try to stay out of their line of sight. Temari knows who you are, and if she recognizes you and makes a big deal out of seeing you, you'll immediately look suspicious after everything goes down."

"Got it," I say.

Hinata checks her watch. "Okay, I better get back. They agreed to meet at the mall at two, so all of you should finish up here and get in position as soon as possible in case they get here early. We want to be ready."

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Twenty minutes later, Ino and I are ducking around the racks of bras and panties, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, when my phone vibrates. I pull it out of my pocket and glance at the text message on the screen. It was from Tenten.

* * *

**From- Bun-head**

** To- Sakura Haruno**

Entering now.

#weaponskill

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My eyes dart toward the entrance of the store, and I see Temari Sabaku and Hidan Fujitaka coming in my direction. I quickly turn my head and open whatever drawer is closest to me, pretending to be very interested in locating an underwire, full-coverage bra in my size. Which, judging by the drawer that I've opened, is somewhere between a 36D and a 42DD. Great.

I stuff my phone in my pocket and start flipping through a couple of the bras, trying to look like just another interested shopper. My eyes connect with Ino's and I widen them dramatically and glance back. Ino's eyes widen and nods. She looked a bit ridiculous glancing here and there as if she was on a sugar high, but I wasn't going to tell her that. I'm pretty sure I looked worse.

Then I casually glance over my left shoulder and see Temari carrying three shopping bags and browsing through a low-rise bikini table while Hidan stands off to her side, looking very bored and extremely uncomfortable.

"I don't know why you dragged me in here," he is saying to her as he stuffs his hands nervously in his pockets. "I look like a fuckin' perv standing in the middle of a bunch of women's underwear."

Temari rolls her eyes and continues sifting through the items on the table. "No, you don't. Not as long as you stay next to me. Then you just look like the boyfriend of a girl who wears very hot underwear. I thought you'd like that."

He crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't respond. His body language pretty much speaks for itself. This apparently frustrates Temari, because she stamps her foot a little and says, "I told you why we're here, Hidan. I got a coupon in the mail the other day and it expires _today_! Do you even know how valuable a fifty percent off coupon is in Eve's Closet?"

Hidan sighs, indicating that, in fact, he does not know.

"Be patient," Temari tells him in a very motherly tone as he slides into a nearby chair and starts to sulk.

"I just need to stock up on underwear and maybe a few new bras."

I inch my way to the left and hide safely behind a circular rack of sexy boy shorts while I take my phone out of my pocket and send a text to Ino and Hinata.

* * *

**From- Sakura Haruno **

**To- Ino-pig, Hyuugaheiress**

Back of the store, low-cut bikini table.

-pinkprophecy-

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Then I begin to sift through the boy shorts and wait for Hinata to appear to execute the next phase in the plan. Except after a few minutes, she's still nowhere in sight. I glance up to see that she's standing behind the register waiting on a customer. And behind that customer, there are at least five people waiting to pay for their items. She catches my eye and glances frustratedly at the line, indicating that she's pretty much stuck there.

I see Ino being caught up in the big queue of customers, and not being able to get through easily, at least not in the next five seconds. It was all me now.

I look back at Temari, whose arms are now full of various bras and panties and, from what it looks like, some type of corset. She struggles to hold everything and still manage to hang on to her three shopping bags.

Hidan, who looks even more bored than he did a few minutes ago, goes "Look, I'm just gonna wait outside. This store makes me nervous."

Temari pouts slightly and replies, "Fine, go."

My eyes widen, and I look back at Ino and her hassle with the line of customers, which has grown by two people in the last thirty seconds. I try to get her attention by doing everything short of waving my hands in the air and jumping up and down, then finally dig out my phone once again and quickly type out a frantic text message. But my panicked fingers are totally slipping all over the keys.

* * *

**From- Sakura Haruno **

**To- Ino-pig **

Hgdan's leazing, whav sgould I do?

-pinkprophecy-

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Ino doesn't look up. She's far too involved with the customer in front of her to even notice that her cell phone has just buzzed in her pocket.

I look back at Hidan, who's now happily making his way to the front of the store, and I know that we're about to lose our opportunity to do what we came here to do. And if that happens, Hidan's universal imbalance will go completely unchecked. I immediately start to freak out.

Then I hear Temari's voice. "Hey!"

And for a minute I think she's talking to me, which would mean that my cover is blown. Not that it matters anyway, now that Hidan is about to leave the store and Ino is stuck somewhere, Tenten is nowhere to be seen and Hinata is bogged down behind a register, unable to do anything about it.

But when I turn my head toward Temari, I notice that she's not even looking at me. Or anywhere in my direction. She's looking at Hidan. And he stops just thirty feet short of the entrance to the mall. His shoulders drop like those of a prison inmate about to get his first taste of paroled freedom only to be called back inside the moment he sees the light of day.

He faces her. "What?"

"Can you at least take these bags with you?" Temari calls from halfway across the store, her arms still overflowing with underwear. "I can't carry them _and _all this stuff."

Hidan reluctantly makes his way to the back of the store again.

My mind is racing. I take one more look at Ino and Hinata. They were still oblivious to everything that's been going on.

It's now or never. If this operation is going to end with a victory and a charm for our bracelets, I know it's entirely up to me.

With my back still turned to Temari and Hidan, I reach over to the rack in front of me and grab three random pairs of panties. Then I slide along the wall until I come to another circular rack. This one is filled with slinky baby dolls. I casually bat at one with my hand until it falls to the ground, and then I crouch down next to the rack as if I'm going to retrieve it. Except instead of picking it up, I crawl along the base of the rack toward the center of the store.

Just then, Hidan stomps past me, Temari's shopping bags in hand, and while still managing to keep my head buried in a sea of satin and lace, I subtly reach out my arm and drop the panties into one of the shopping bags.

It's not until a few seconds later, while I'm pulling myself to my feet and dusting off my hands, that I hear the alarms go off.

And that's when I know that our mission is a success.

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	11. Legend Of The Great Granny Panty Bandit

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_11-_** The **_Legend _**of **_the_** Great **_Granny _**Panty **_Bandit_

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_In a rumor _mill like Konoha High, it doesn't take long on Monday for word to spread about Hidan Fujitaka's new criminal record. Particularly when it's discovered that the stolen merchandise found in his shopping bag was none other than three pairs of extra-large women's underwear. And although I know it would be that much more impressive if I could truthfully say that it was all part of some premeditated plan and that I specifically selected the cotton briefs popular among women over the age of fifty-five, I can't really take the credit. I didn't even know Eve's Closet sold underwear like that. It was just a sign that fate was on our side and that Hidan was destined to receive the punishment he deserved. And based on the gossip churning this morning, that very punishment is currently being decided by the school's administration. It is explicitly stated in the rules of the official Japan Interscholastic Federation that any illegal activity conducted during the course of the season warrants immediate suspension from the team.

Which is exactly why we chose this particular mission in the first place.

Hinata told us that, because the value of the stolen merchandise was so low, Hidan wouldn't have to spend any time in jail, but the crime would go on his record as a misdemeanor.

She also informed us that Hidan tried to pin it on Temari, who was forced to wait outside for the entire time Hidan was being interrogated in a back room of the store. He argued that obviously Temari had thrown the underwear in the bag before she gave it to him to hold.

Apparently he hasn't grown out of trying to use his girlfriends as scapegoats. I guess some things never change.

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At lunch, I'm in the counseling office checking to see when I'm next scheduled to tutor Sai Takahashi's little brother, because the fate of our fourth mission is dependent upon me getting inside Sai's house and snooping through his stuff. When I check the bulletin board, I see that Shin Takahashi has signed up for a session with me on Wednesday after school. As I'm turning to leave, I hear a voice behind me call out my name.

"Sakura-kun?"

I spin around to see Akira-san, the guidance counselor. "Can I see you in my office?"

I immediately rack my brain, trying to figure out what I might have done wrong. Maybe a parent complained about my tutoring style. Or that I've been distracted in my sessions lately. Or possibly one of my students failed a test. That never looks good for the tutor.

I sit down across from Akira-san and try to appear relaxed and carefree. Nothing looks worse on the face of someone who's about to get reprimanded than a guilty expression. "Is everything okay?" I ask casually. "Did Ling pass her trig test?"

"Oh, yes, Sakura-kun. Everything is fine. Ling got a B plus."

"That's great!" I say. _But if that's not the problem, why am I sitting here?_

"I think you're doing a great job in this student tutoring program," Akira-san begins. "We've had nothing but positive feedback about you from the parents and the teachers."

I feel a sense of relief wash over me. "Well, that's good."

"How are you handling your own workload?" Akira-san asks.

"Fine. No problems." There's really no point in telling him that nearly every night I have to force myself to stop obsessing over Kiba Inuzuka so I can finish my homework. In fact, I haven't even told Tenten, Hinata and Ino that I still cry when I get into bed and the room is dark and my phone is silent. Those are the times I miss Kiba the most. The times when he used to call me up and sometimes we would talk until I fell asleep.

I know all three of them would disapprove of that. Because this whole Karma Club thing is supposed to be getting me over him. It's supposed to be how I move on. But the truth is, I haven't. At least not entirely.

I keep that to myself, though.

"Good," Akira-san says. "Glad to hear it. Well, I brought you in here because your English teacher told me that you're doing exceptionally well in your AP class this semester and that you have an incredible grasp of the language, and I was wondering if you . . ."

As Akira-san continues to talk, I hear the faint sound of my cell phone vibrating in the front pocket of my backpack. It only buzzes once, which means it's a text message. Probably from Tenten, Ino or Hinata. I pretend to be fully absorbed in what he's saying, nodding and mmm-hmming as I casually lean forward in my chair and attempt to remove the cell phone and hold it out in front of me under Akira-san's desk so he can't see it.

Ino's message is brief.

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**From- Ino-pig**

**To- Sakura Haruno**

Verdict is in. Meet at my locker . . . now!

#blondebombshell

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My heart immediately starts beating a little bit faster. This is it. The moment we've been waiting for. The administration has made a decision regarding Hidan Fujitaka's future on the Konoha High baseball team.

This could be our first official Karma Club victory!

I nod my head at whatever Akira-san is saying as I reach down and slip my cell phone back into my backpack.

Okay, I really don't know why he's still talking or why he even called me in here other than to commend me on my excellent grasp of the English language, but I need to get out of here right now. Maybe if I just tell him that—

"Sakura-kun?" Akira-san is looking at me questioningly.

"Huh?"

"Can you help him out with his English homework?" he asks.

Okay, so right now I have two choices. I can either say "Who?" and completely give away the fact that I wasn't listening to a word he's been saying because I was too busy daydreaming about Hidan Fujitaka's humiliation in front of the entire school. Or I can say "Sure! No problem!" then get the heck out of here and join my friends to celebrate.

Yes, that's definitely the option to go with at this point.

"Sure! No problem!" I say, leaping up from my seat, grabbing my backpack, and taking a step toward the door. "Happy to help."

Akira-san appears relieved. "Oh, that's great, Sakura-kun. Thanks. He's really struggling and can definitely benefit from your help. I'll arrange for the two of you to meet after school in the library today. Does that work?"

I flash him a flustered smile as I place my hand on the doorknob and pull the door toward me. "Yep, fine. I'll meet him after school. Not a problem. Well, I should probably get to class. Thanks, Akira-san."

And before he can say anything else, I'm out the door, racing down the main hallway like an Olympic sprinter. When I finally arrive at Ino's locker, panting and out of breath, I see Tenten, Hinata and Ino standing off to the side, giggling profusely at something.

"What happened?" I exclaim breathlessly. "What did you hear? Tell me everything."

But honestly, I don't really have to ask. I can tell by the beaming grin on Tenten's face that the news is good.

Ino turns to Tenten. "Do you want to do the honors? Since he's _your _ex?"

Tenten grins gratefully and in a very hushed but animated voice says, "He's out."

"Out?" I repeat. "As in suspended for three games out?"

She simply shakes her head.

"As in _off the team _out?" I ask again.

She nods, and I immediately start jumping up and down. I just can't help myself. Kiba and Ami might still be together and Ami's face might still be flawless (for now), but at least this is a sign that our hard work and careful planning are _actually _paying off.

Hinata suggests, "Let's go pick out our first victory charm for our bracelets after school."

"Yes!" I say without hesitation, but then remember that I just agreed to tutor some kid this afternoon, and my shoulders drop. "Oh, crap. I can't. I have a tutoring session."

Ino's face lights up. "Is it Shin? Sai's little brother?"

I shake my head. "No, that's not until Wednesday. But today's session should only take an hour, so I can meet you guys after."

We agree to meet at 4:15 p.m. at a well-known hippie jewelry store on Main Street and then disperse toward our fifth-period classrooms.

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By the end of the day, I'm really starting to regret my decision to take on another tutoring student. Well, technically, it wasn't really a decision, at least not a conscious one. It was more like a desperate attempt to avoid getting caught not paying attention to Akira-san. My mom would probably say that was a decision in and of itself, so there you go.

The point is, all I really want to do is ditch my session with the new student and hang out with my friends so we can continue our successful scheming efforts. It's amazing how one victory can make you feel empowered and inspire you to keep going. I mean, after hearing the news about Hidan, I just want to dedicate my life to creating Karma for everyone in the world who deserves it. I'd be like Mother Teresa or something. Circling the globe, helping those in need. All the victims of the Ami Watanabes and the Kiba Inuzukas of the world.

Of course, I don't ditch my appointment. I go, like the good student tutor that I am. Because I suppose people who sign up for tutoring sessions are people in need too. Just a different kind of need. And as soon as I start neglecting them, I'm just as bad as Hidan Fujitaka, Shino Aburame or Sai Takahashi.

I throw my books into my bag, close my locker, and make my way to the library. Once inside, I scan the room for someone resembling a struggling English student, but unfortunately, I come up short. So I just take a seat at a table near the door and wait.

After five minutes go by, I'm about to give up and tell my friends to meet me at the jewelry store early when I hear someone call my name. "Sakura?"

I look up to see none other than Sasuke Uchiha in all his hot glory walking toward me.

Not him again. What the heck is he doing here?

"Yeah?" I say, trying to sound nonchalant, though probably failing at it, judging by the amused smirk on his face.

Of course I'm nonchalant, why would I be _chalant_? It's not like I care what Sasuke Uchiha thinks about me. Of course not.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

_Wait a minute. What?_

"Late for what?" I say, as if I have no idea what he's referring to. And I'm really hoping that I don't.

"Our tutoring session," Sasuke says matter-of-factly and, in my opinion, kind of bordering on rudely as he plops his backpack down on a nearby chair and takes the seat across from me.

_No, no, no. I did _not _agree to tutor Sasuke Uchiha, the richest, the hottest, most stuck-up guy in school. No way._

But then, actually, I kind of _did _agree to tutor Sasuke Uchiha. I just had no idea it was Sasuke Uchiha when I was doing it. And if I did, I probably would have just made up some excuse.

"You're the struggling English student?" I ask, still not quite willing to accept my fate.

He nods a little bashfully. "Unfortunately, that would be a _yes_. I'm afraid I can't seem to master the subjunctive, or any tense, for that matter."

Okay, this is _so _not going to work. I cannot tutor him. I cannot have weekly one-hour reminders of what happened at that dreadful loft of his. Not when I'm doing everything in my power to erase it. Or at least avenge it. Whatever happens during these tutoring sessions, Sasuke will certainly report back to Karin, who will, no doubt, report back to Ami, and then I'm just toast. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he's secretly wired for surveillance under that amazing crewneck sweater of his.

This can't be happening. Out of all the people in this entire school, why did _Sasuke Uchiha _happen to need help with English subjunctives? I mean, come on, they're not _that _hard. Can't he figure them out by himself? Or if not, shouldn't his parents be paying someone like a million dollars a week to tutor their son in english? Someone who really _is _English. Like George Clooney perhaps.

I take a deep breath and watch helplessly as Sasuke unloads his English textbook and a red notebook and flips to a blank page. And that's when I painfully realize that none of this would be happening if I had only ignored that stupid text message in Akira-san's office and just paid attention to whatever he was saying. Because if I had, I'd be standing in front of a display case of charm bracelet charms right now, figuring out which one best represented our Hidan Fujitaka victory.

But instead, I'm here, with _him_. Just another paid employee of the Uchiha family. Along with their two dozen maids, butlers, chauffeurs, and the people they probably pay to hold the gold-trimmed tissues they blow their noses with.

And suddenly, I have a newfound respect for the no cell phone policy at school.

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	12. The Unexpected Apology

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

* * *

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_12-_** An **_Un-_**expected **_Apology_

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_After a grueling _hour of explaining to Sasuke when to use subjunctive and when to use regular present tense, I finally make it to the jewelry store on Main Street.

I'm about five minutes early, so I casually stroll through the store, inspecting the various pieces of what _Contempo Girl _would call "bohemian jewelry." Lots of turquoise stuff and peace signs dangling from braided chokers. I see a couple more Yin-Yang symbols on rings and hanging from necklaces, but it's honestly hard for me to concentrate on jewelry because I can't stop thinking about the conversation I had with Sasuke in the library earlier.

It was about fifteen minutes into our session when I looked up from a page in his textbook to see him just kind of staring at me with this pitying look on his face. Like I'm a lost dog and he's watching to see if anyone shows up to claim me.

"What?" I asked, rubbing my face self-consciously.

He shook his head as if he were shaking himself from an involuntary trance and replied, "Nothing. Sorry. Where were we?"

I studied him curiously and pointed to the page. "Regular _ing_verbs."

"Right," he said with a smirk, and I turned my attention back to the book and continued with my explanation.

But when I looked up ten seconds later to make sure he was paying attention, I saw that he was staring at me _again_! This time with even more concern on his face.

"_What?" _I asked again, annoyed. I mean, honestly, what _was _this guy's problem? Did he think that just because his parents own half of the town, he's allowed to sit and gawk at people like that? Did his family not teach him any manners while they were jetting across Europe?

"I'm sorry about what happened," he finally said with what surprisingly sounded like genuine compassion. "At my parents' loft. With Inuzuka."

I immediately knew what he was getting at. He was trying to pry information out of me. Juicy details that he could report back to his little crew. He was trying to get me to talk about how crushed I am. To admit that my life would never be the same after Ami Watanabe swooped in and stole my most prized possession. Maybe he could even get me to shed a few tears in the process. Then he could go back and give Ami the satisfaction of knowing that she single-handedly ruined my life.

Well, I was determined not to let that happen. Especially not when I knew that just this morning, the homecoming queen herself was unknowingly rubbing vegetable oil all over her face.

Not a chance.

He could sit there all he wanted with his pathetic displays of sympathy and his concerned dark eyes. Because little did this spoiled jerk know I had everything to play for at this point. And it would only be a matter of time until I wasn't the one on the verge of tears anymore.

So I smiled politely at him and offered a tight-lipped "Thanks."

"No, seriously," he insisted. "I feel bad."

By then, it had gotten ridiculous. I couldn't believe that he was actually trying to egg me on. That he was actually trying to poke around until he found the right button to push. Well, he could just keep poking as much as he wanted, because I was determined not to cave. And just for show, I gave him an apathetic shrug and said, "I appreciate your concern. But there's no reason to feel bad. I'm fine. Really."

"I know it's not my fault," he continued. "But it did happen at my house, and Ami is . . . well, kind of a friend of mine, though I do use the word friend loosely, so in that sense I feel somewhat responsible."

Though I did find the friend thing surprising, all I wanted to grab his shoulders, shake him, and say, "Give it up, buddy! I'm not going to cry!" but instead I focused my attention back on English verbs.

But he kept talking. "I know I wasn't even there, but someone told me the next day that—"

And with that, my head jerked up. "What do you mean, you weren't even _there_?" I asked.

This was news to me. Why wouldn't Sasuke be at his own party? And then when I thought about it, I didn't really remember seeing him there. Granted, I wasn't exactly looking for him. I was too busy looking for Ami. Oh, and walking in on my boyfriend making out with her.

He shook his head and smirks lightly. "No. I'm not really a fan of the Loft parties. Naruto usually hosts them. I just give him the keys. I think I've only been to one or two this whole year."

"What?" I sputtered and then quickly recoiled, berating myself for letting this guy evoke any sort of uncontrolled emotion, including surprise. I attempted to compose myself and force the aloofness back into my voice. "I mean, that's just kind of weird that you don't go to your own parties."

He shrugged and put his pen down. "What can I say? I'm not really the party type of guy. It's like I outgrew that whole scene last year. It's not even fun anymore. It's all about who's there and what girl is wearing what and who's making out with who. Personally, I think it's kind of juvenile."

At this point, it was me who was staring. I just couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sasuke Uchiha— as in the resident of the Uchiha Loft, as in the son of the _owners _of the Loft—doesn't like to party? How completely ridiculous was that? And I wondered if Ami had absolutely any idea that Sasuke was going around basically calling her entire existence juvenile.

Somehow I doubted it. And what about Karin? Did she know that he felt this way?

I nodded speechlessly.

"Anyway," Sasuke said, picking up his pen again, "I only wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened there. What Inuzuka did was completely heartless, and I know you didn't deserve that."

Somehow, I was unable to move my hand to turn the page of the textbook. My whole body felt kind of numb . . . and tingly at the same time.

"Thank you," I managed to say weakly and, in my own personal opinion, with just a tad too much feeling attached. But honestly, I couldn't really help it. It just kind of came out. As did the small drops of moisture in my eyes.

But I quickly blinked those away and averted my gaze before he was able to see my face. Then I silently cursed myself for letting him get to me. Although I was grateful that I was able to stop myself before the tears really started to spill. If he was planning to leave that library with gossip to share with his friends, at least he wouldn't have much.

But somehow, deep down, I truly didn't believe that that was part of his grand plan. Actually, I was starting to doubt if there even _was _a grand plan.

Then again, I believed Kiba when he told me he had no interest whatsoever in dating Ami, and look how well that turned out.

Either Sasuke is the world's best actor who missed his calling which I doubt, since he doesn't show emotion much . . . or he was being genuinely sincere.

Right now, as I stand in the jewelry shop waiting for my friends to show up, the only thing I can think about is how much I hate him for being so freaking ambiguous.

Ino, Tenten and HInata come through the door a few minutes later, and my thoughts of Sasuke are quickly washed away with talk of charms and Karma and revenge. And believe me, I'm incredibly grateful for the distraction. Sasuke Uchiha was just an anomaly that was just too distracting for his own good.

We stand in front of the display case for a good twenty minutes deliberating on which charm best suits our purpose. It's a close call between a charm that looks like a pair of women's underwear and a charm depicting a baseball bat hitting a ball, but in the end we agree upon the baseball charm because it's more representative of Hidan's overall Karmic payback. The fact that his reputation took a serious dive and he'll probably be forever known in our school as the "Great Granny Panty Bandit" is just icing on the cake.

The baseball bat looks really good next to the Yin-Yang, particularly when you know what it stands for.

But I have to admit, the victory is a little bittersweet for me. Because as much as I'm excited about getting some well-deserved revenge on Hidan after he totally betrayed my best friend last year, I'm still somewhat disappointed that our first victory wasn't Kiba. And not only that, but every day that I'm forced to watch Kiba and Ami canoodling in the hallway or the cafeteria or the parking lot makes it seem like victory is getting farther and farther away. I mean, I'm trying to be optimistic and everything, but some days are just harder than others.

We leave the jewelry store and go directly to Ino's house, where we immediately launch into the fourth mission that we have planned, Operation Mrs. Robinson. This was actually Ino's idea.

Or rather, the name of the operation was Ino's idea. She's a big fan of old movies, and she explained to us that the name was inspired by _The Graduate_, which came out in like the sixties or something. I mean, who even knew they made movies back then? Well, anyway, she forced us to watch it with her so we could fully understand the meaning behind the brilliant title.

Basically it's about a guy who's fresh out of college and has an affair with an older woman, Mrs. Robinson, who is also one of his parents' friends. But despite the fact that he's still sleeping with Mrs. Robinson, he soon falls in love with her daughter. And it becomes impossible for the guy to have a normal relationship with the daughter because Mrs. Robinson gets really jealous and tries to arrange her daughter's marriage to someone else so she can have the young buck all to herself.

To me it dragged on just a little too long and the whole plot seemed really incestuous and wrong, but I must admit that the name Operation Mrs. Robinson or Mrs. Robinson_s_, plural, was really the absolute perfect fit for what we had planned for Sai.

We get on Ino's computer, and the first thing we do is create a fake e-mail address for Sai. Next we sort through Ino's picture folder and select three pictures of him that we feel best represent different sides of his personality: sexy, athletic, and playful. Ino has always been the photographer of our group.

She loves taking pictures. While I, on the other hand, am much more of a writer than a photographer. That's why I was selected to be in charge of the official Karma Club notebook.

Ino goes to some Internet dating site, and we're greeted by a black welcome screen. Without even a second thought, she clicks on the giant green bubble that reads, "Find My Soul Mate Now."

"Okay, Sai Takahashi," Ino says with a hungry gleam of revenge in her eyes. "Prepare to meet your Mrs. Robinson."

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**From **_the _**Official **_Notebook _**of **_the _**Karma **_Club_

**Karmic Beneficiary #4**

_**Name: **_Sai Takahashi

_**Background: **_Ex-boyfriend of Ino Yamanaka. The pride and joy of the Takahashi family. Now dating Akemi Souta, active member of SunaU's Delta Delta Delta sorority

_**Universal Imbalance: **_Told club member he'd wait to have sex until she was ready, then had sex with someone else less than 24 hours later

_**Valued Possession: **_His "Golden Boy" reputation

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	13. Operation Mrs Robinson

**disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

**extra-** this story mainly focuses on the friendship between the four girls, the extent to which they would go for each other, and revenge. While the pairing is SasuSaku, it is not the central focus of the story and may take time to develop.

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_13-_** Operation **_Mrs. _**Robinson **

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**Dear Sai, **

**Congratulations on completing your recent registration. You are now only a few clicks away from finding your soul mate! We are committed to helping you find that special someone. We hope that you enjoy all of the new and enhanced services and features we have to offer.**

**Below is a preview of the online profile that you submitted. Please make sure that all the information is correct. Your profile should be live within the next 24 hours, so keep checking back with us!**

**Sincerely,**

**Your Faithful Matchmaking Team**

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**Submitted Profile for Sai Takahashi**

**Tell Us About You**

**Name:** _Sai Takahashi_

**Age:** _18_

**Location:** _Konoha, Japan_

**Relationship Status:** _Never been married_

**Occupation:** _Student_

**Height:** _6'1"_

**Body Type:** _Athletic_

**Interests/Hobbies:** _Track, weight lifting, movies, reading, painting_

**Relationship Goals:** _Just for fun_

**Turn-ons: **_Boldness/Assertiveness, flirting, public displays of affection, mature women_

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**Tell Us About Your Perfect Match**

**Gender:** _Female_

**Age Range:** _40–55_

**Height Range:** _5'0"–5'9"_

**Body Type:** _Any_

**Hair Color:** _Any_

**Relationship History:** _Never been married, currently separated, divorced_

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On Wednesday afternoon, I find myself exactly where I planned to be: in Sai Takahashi's kitchen, tutoring his little brother in algebra.

Shin Takahashi is not really a dumb kid, he was just unfortunate enough to be born as the younger brother of Sai, the pride and joy of the Takahashi family. Good at school, good at sports, cute, charming, polite, blah blah blah. Also really good at cheating on his girlfriends.

Shin is not as smart, not as cute, definitely not as charming, and just overall . . . not Sai. He spends the majority of his time getting high with his other slacker friends. And it doesn't take a psychology degree to figure out why younger siblings like Shin don't really apply themselves in anything they do. Because in their minds, what's the freaking point?

I wait for the perfect moment to sneak away, while Shin is chewing on a five-step systems equation problem, and I excuse myself to use the restroom.

I make my way down the hall toward the Takahashi boys' bathroom, flip on the light and the fan, and close the door so that anyone passing by will think that it's occupied. Then I tiptoe further down the hall to Sai's bedroom, step inside, and shut the door behind me.

I know for sure that today Sai is at track practice because I saw him running laps on my way out of the school parking lot, so I figure I'm safe in here until at least five o'clock, when practice is over, or until Shin sends out a search party for me when I don't return from the bathroom.

I can't believe how immaculate the room is. Everything is exactly where it's supposed to be. There's not a crumb in sight, a clothing article on the ground, or a stray piece of paper lying on the desk. Ino warned me that the room might look like this. True to his Golden Boy image, Sai's also obsessive-compulsive when it comes to his things, which only adds yet another item to the list of reasons why Sai and his brother are exact opposites.

Shin's room, which I saw briefly when we went hunting through stacks of paper on the floor for his last algebra test to review, is probably on the watch list for the next federal disaster area.

Sai's immaculateness and attention to detail only help us in our quest. He keeps everything pertaining to his life and his schedule on his PDA cell phone, a birthday present from his parents, which he keeps with him at all times. And since Sai's schedule for the week is exactly the information that we're after, Ino suggested an alternative way of accessing it.

"The minute he gets home from school," she explained to me before I left for my tutoring session with Shin, "he always sits down at his desk and syncs that stupid thing with his precious computer. He did it every day the entire time we were dating. And not until after the information was transferred over would we be able to make out or do anything remotely fun. It was incredibly lame."

I quickly take a seat at his desk and turn on his laptop. I open up the right application, and the screen immediately fills with a weekly schedule. I quickly press print and wait as the schedule prints. I grab it and stuff it in my back pocket. Then I shut the computer down and head back toward the closed door.

But as I reach for the door handle, I hear a faint knocking sound followed by Shin's voice. "Saks?"

Okay, not good.

_Don't panic, _I instruct myself as I stop dead in my tracks, my hand frozen in midair. There's a reasonable explanation for why I'm in here, I just have to find it. If I were Ino, I would have already come up with three, _and _I'd be able to deliver them with flawless credibility thanks to my perfected theatrical skills. Only problem is, I'm not Ino. I'm Sakura Haruno (I feel my full name is probably appropriate here given the gravity of my current predicament). And Sakura Haruno doesn't act very well. She also has a lot of trouble lying. And at the moment, apparently breathing as well.

There's another knock, and I soon realize that it's coming not from outside _this _door but rather from further down the hallway, at the bathroom door.

I should have known! Shin doesn't think I'm in _here_, he thinks I'm in the bathroom. Because I turned on the light and the fan and closed the door.

Then I hear his voice say, "Saks, are you all right?"

And I know I can't answer back because it won't sound like it's coming from behind the bathroom door, it'll sound like it's coming from behind _this _door. So I press my lips together tightly and try to figure a way out of this. If no answer comes from behind the bathroom door, pretty soon he'll get worried and either try to open it or call for backup. Like parents or even an ambulance. And that could get messy.

I glance frantically around the room, searching for something—anything—that can help me out of this. Then I feel a vibrating in my pocket and I remember my cell phone. I pull it out, ignore the text message that just arrived from Tenten, and navigate to my phone book to find Shin's cell number.

I block my number from his caller ID and then dial. As I wait for it to ring, I hold my breath until I hear the faint sound of Shin's cell phone ringing down the hall.

I listen to his footsteps as they fade away, and I end the call. Then I dash out the door, close it behind me, and open the bathroom door to shut off the light and the fan. Before I can turn around again, I hear Shin's voice ask, "Are you okay?"

I whip back to see him standing there at the end of the hallway, his cell phone in hand, looking at me with this really weird expression. Kind of like a mix between concern and disgust.

I sigh. "Yeah, sorry it took me so long." Then, for effect, I fake a stomach cramp. "Ugh," I moan. "You don't want to know."

Yeah, I know it's gross. Because I'm signaling to Shin that either I'm on my period or I have some really bad indigestion (I'm not sure which is worse). But as they say in sports, I just have to suck it up and take one for the team.

Shin keeps looking at me, not sure what to make of it. Then he says, "I was knocking on the door and calling your name, but you didn't answer."

I swallow hard. "Um . . . you were?"

He nods, still studying me with that same strange expression.

"How about that? I guess I didn't hear you because of the, um . . ." I look back toward the bathroom. "Fan and everything. It's really loud in there." Then I flash this innocent smile that I used on my parents when I was little and trying to get away with something I knew full well I wasn't supposed to get away with. But then again, it never really worked back then, so I'm not quite sure why I'm relying on it now.

To my great surprise and delight, Shin shrugs, looks down at his cell phone, and says, "Whatever. I missed a call from a blocked number. I hate when people block their phone numbers. Just tell me who you are and stop hiding behind technology."

I nod sympathetically as we walk back to the kitchen together. "Yeah, that's freaking annoying," I echo and then fall back into my seat. "So where were we?"

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The goal of Operation Mrs. Robinson is to find the clingiest, neediest, most desperate over-forties women out there and arrange for them to meet Sai at a public place, preferably while he's surrounded by friends, family members, or, better yet, his new college girlfriend.

Fortunately, we don't have to look for very long. The women seem to flock to us . . . or rather, to Sai, like desert travelers to a mirage.

We submitted Sai's profile on Tuesday afternoon, and in just a few short days, his in-box is absolutely overflowing with messages, chat invitations, phone numbers, and even a few naked photographs, which, trust me, none of us were quite prepared to see.

When the three of us gather at Ino's house on Thursday night, the first thing we do is pore over Sai's schedule and then diligently divide up the various times and locations of his plans among the top candidates we've weeded out from the e-mails.

In a few hours, we have arranged over fifteen "blind dates" for Sai Takahashi. In this case, the word _blind _is a fairly accurate description, given the fact that Sai won't even know he is on a date. And just so we don't lose track of all the details, I record all of these dates, including times, locations, and the names of the women that Sai has unknowingly extended invitations to meet, in the official Karma Club notebook.

It's amazing how confusing it can get keeping track of fifteen different women at one time.

Of course, we were very adamant in our e-mails to all the women that how they "met" should _not _be mentioned in front of Sai's friends, as he doesn't want them to know that he's registered with an online dating site. So we ask each of them to kindly make up a creative and fun story as opposed to telling the truth.

The plan works absolutely brilliantly.

For the next few days, Sai is completely bombarded. Almost everywhere he goes there's a woman over forty, desperately trying to look thirty-five, hitting on him. And most of them are not so subtle in letting him know that they're "open to pretty much anything."

Tenten, Ino, Hinata and I spend our days sneaking around the various blind date locations to witness the glorious mortification first-hand. Like when Akuza, our forty-nine-year-old music industry executive, showed up at brunch with Sai's parents and grandparents, sat down at the table next to Sai, and said, "Ah, honey, I think it's sweet that you invited your family on our first date, but I already told you, I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm just looking for someone to have sex with to get back at my cheating scumbag of a husband," the three of us were sitting inconspicuously at a nearby booth trying to contain our laughter.

Or when Chiharu, the forty-four-year-old flight attendant, showed up at the Ichiraku ramen stand and asked Sai point-blank, in front of his girlfriend and her friends, if he wouldn't mind having children right away because her biological clock only has a few ticks left in it, the three of us were eavesdropping from the next table.

But the absolute highlight came on Monday night, when Sai was scheduled to hang out with his girlfriend, Akemi, at his house and three different women came knocking at his door. Hinata, Ino, Tenten and I were camped out behind the bushes that lined the Takahashi's driveway, sharing a pair of binoculars like a bunch of celebrity stalkers.

When the final woman showed up and Sai reluctantly opened the door, she wasted no time showing him how little she was wearing underneath her trench coat. And fortunately, Akemi, who was getting visibly more irritated with each unexpected visitor, was standing right behind him when it happened. It really couldn't have played out any more perfectly.

Akemi immediately pushed past him and stormed out of the house, ranting like a crazy person. It was kind of hard to understand her in the middle of all that commotion, especially with the woman still standing there half-naked on Sai's front stoop, but I did manage to catch the words _sicko _and _pervert _coming out of her mouth as she stomped past our bush.

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So before long, Sai Takahashi had a new reputation to defend at school. One that often involved the acronym MILF in its description.

And it's pretty safe to say his parents won't be using the term _Golden Boy _when referring to their older son anymore.

After most of the damage is done, we decide to remove Sai's online dating profile and delete the e-mail account that it was associated with. To make sure the mystery of his downfall forever remains just that—a mystery. And even if one of the women did mention the dating site and he did go in search of his own profile, there would be no evidence left of his demise.

Except for the new charms on our bracelets. Although it's hardly likely that anyone would be able to link the two seemingly unconnected items. Especially when the charm that we picked out is so very generic and common for girls our age. It's in the shape of a graduation cap. Not because the three of us will be wearing very similar caps in only a few short months, as most people will probably speculate, but because Sai Takahashi is officially our new Graduate.

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	14. The Proof is in the Facebook Profile

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_13-_** The **_Proof _**is **_in _**the **_Facebook _**Profile **

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_The next Friday_, I'm back in the library tutoring Sasuke in English again, counting down the minutes until I can go home. I mean, he's totally gorgeous and everything, and I _may_ have been content to just stare at him, but repeating verbs and nouns again and again may tend to get…well, boring.

Today is an especially hard day for me to cope because it just happens to be Kiba's birthday, and I had been planning his big eighteenth birthday bash for the past year. I had the venue picked out, the decorations, the music, everything! I was going to do a political theme, seeing that he's the class president and totally into political science _and _because at age eighteen you're finally considered a legal citizen and therefore able to vote.

I thought it was a pretty creative idea, but according to the entire buzz going around the hallways, Ami is throwing him some kind of hot, exclusive, Hollywood-themed party tonight with limos and expensive gift bags and a live band. And even _I _can admit that sounds a hundred times better than what I had planned. Though mine _was_ a bit more original.

But the thought of Kiba spending his big special night with someone as perfect and gorgeous as Ami Watanabe doing God knows what in her perfect, gorgeous three story mansion just makes my heart lurch. And it certainly doesn't help matters that her face has, regrettably, yet to show any signs of breaking out and she probably looks especially good in lingerie . . .

Okay, I promised I wouldn't let myself think about that stuff.

"Sakura?" Sasuke brings my attention back to the subject at hand. Which today is the use of conditional _if _phrases. Like, I would go to the store _if _I had money. Or I would _not _be here _if _I had just listened to Akira-san when he was talking.

"Yeah?" I respond, as if I'm not really sure why he's calling my name when I'm sitting right here.

Sasuke looks at me amused and says, "It looked like you were somewhere else."

I shake my head adamantly. "No, no. I'm here."

"I guess this stuff is about as exciting to you as it is to me."

"Sorry," I finally say. "I'm paying attention."

And then, like he's some kind of freak-show mind reader, he goes, "Inuzuka's birthday?"

My head immediately pops up. Much higher than it's supposed to go, actually. "What?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Were you thinking about Inuzuka's birthday party tonight?" Sasuke rephrases his question.

And now I'm wondering if maybe he's one of those rare people who can read minds. And if that's the case, I'm really screwed because I've already thought on more than one occasion how crappy it is that I'm stuck tutoring this guy. Then again, if he can read minds, I guess he'd be reading these thoughts too. And then I suppose I could look up at him and he'd raise his eyebrows and nod his head as if to say, "Yes, I'm a freak, I can read your thoughts."

On the other hand, if he wanted to keep his superpower a secret, he wouldn't nod, because he knows I'm expecting it because I just thought it.

God, this is confusing.

Well, anyway, even if he can read minds, it's not like I will admit that he's right, so I simply respond by saying, "No," in a really defensive voice. "Why would you think that?"

Sasuke shrugs. "You had this far-off look in your eyes, and I know the party is tonight because it's all Karin has been able to talk about for the past week." I swear I see his eyes roll as he says this last part, and the slightly annoyed intonation in his voice seems to suggest that he's not personally a big fan of birthday parties in general.

"What's the matter?" I ask. "_You're _not looking forward to the big Hollywood party?" I don't really care what his answer is, I'm just trying to push his buttons and see if I can get a reaction that fits his disagreeable reputation. Because, in all honesty, he has not done or said anything even remotely snobby since we started these tutoring sessions.

I can see from the look on his face that my question has struck some kind of nerve. But he shakes his head and says, "No. I'm not going, actually."

_Not going? _I think immediately. To the big glitzy party that everyone is talking about? That seems pretty strange. Especially since he already said his girlfriend has been talking about it all week. What's even stranger is I have this odd feeling that the reason he's not going has something to do with me. I'm not sure why, though, because when I really stop and think about it, that whole rationale seems absolutely ridiculous. It's not like Sasuke would refuse to go to Kiba's birthday party just out of respect for _me_.

Wait, would he?

I want to press him for more information, but I stay quiet and direct my attention to the half-conjugated verb on the paper in front of us. I do, however, take the opportunity to steal a quick glance at Sasuke's face. Like, I really look at him. And what I see is entirely unexpected. He looks kind of pained . . . hurt, even.

But then all emotion is wiped off his face and he looks up at me, and I quickly look away, mumbling something like "Yeah, I'm sure the party will be totally lame anyway."

He nods in agreement and goes, "Yeah. Totally overhyped."

And I don't really get any more insight into what he's thinking because, after that, the conversation is apparently over. I couldn't resist taking one last peek at him.

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Later that night, after I help my mom with the dishes from dinner, get a head start on my weekend homework, and help my sister brainstorm ideas for her upcoming science fair project, I boot up my computer, go directly to my Facebook account, and click through to Kiba's profile. This has become my nightly ritual.

Sometime before I go to bed, I stare at his page. I know it's really masochistic and sad, but I guess I'm just secretly hoping that tonight will be the night it will finally have changed. That Ami Watanabe's name will no longer be occupying the coveted "Relationship Status" spot that used to be mine.

I remember signing on a month ago and seeing her name there for the first time. It was right after I saw them show up to school together. That night when I logged in, she was magically there. And I was magically gone. It was like I had vanished right into cyberspace or something.

That had made the whole thing painfully real for me, as ridiculous as it sounds. I mean, how sad is it that I needed a freaking Facebook profile to tell me that my boyfriend was no longer my boyfriend? As if Facebook is the official record keeper of relationships and you have to confirm all breakups and hookups with this sacred online registrar before you can consider them certified and approved.

Unfortunately, tonight is no different. Ami's name is still there. And when I click through to her page, I see her sparkling silver-grey eyes and perfect, blemish-free skin practically laughing at me from the screen.

They remind me, not so subtly, that I am failing in my quest for revenge.

Suddenly, I feel very angry. The frustration is boiling up inside of me. There has to be a way to put a stop to this. Something that we haven't yet thought of. The breakup scheme of all breakup schemes.

And it has to happen now!

I close Facebook and open up Kiba's e-mail account. I start scouring his in-box like a jealous girlfriend. But I'm really just searching for inspiration. Maybe we were too quick to rule out another email exchange between Kiba and Catherine Linton. Maybe if we make this round dirtier and even more incriminating it will do the trick. Ami is not likely to stand for a raunchy round of cybersex between the two of them, is she?

But just as I'm about to click on "Compose New Message" and try my hand at some romance paperback–worthy correspondence, I notice a new e-mail pop into the in-box.

It's from someone whose name I don't recognize.

Shino Aburame.

_Hmm. _I repeat the name over and over again in my head, trying to figure out if I've ever heard it before. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I click on the e-mail and start reading.

As my eyes skim over the text, my lips slowly part and my mouth eventually drops open.

_Oh my God. _This can't possibly be real. I can't believe what I'm reading.

I feel like a miner who's been digging for gold for months and months and yet returns home empty handed every day. And then one evening, as I'm trudging home, feeling discouraged and ready to throw in the towel, I toss my pick violently over my shoulder in a defiant display and it embeds itself randomly into the side of a mountain.

When I turn around to see where the pick has landed, I blink in utter disbelief.

I've struck gold.

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	15. Good News and Bathroom Stall Confessions

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

* * *

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**.**

**.**

**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_13-_** Good **_News _**and **_Bathroom _**Stall **_Confessions_

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_I know I _could simply call my friends and tell them what I've just read in Kiba's e-mail from the mysterious and life-saving Shino Aburame, but this kind of breakthrough is so much better shared in person. I clasp a printout of the e-mail in my hands, tell my parents that I've decided to spend the night at Tenten's, jump into my car, and peel out of the driveway.

As soon as I'm on the main road, I pick up my cell phone to call Hinata and Ino and ask them to meet me there. With one hand firmly on the wheel, I flip open my phone with the other and speed-dial Ino's cell. I know, I know, I'm not supposed to be driving and talking on the phone at the same time. It's against the law, blah blah blah. Obviously the law has to have some kind of loophole in case of emergencies. And although no one is actually dying or anything, this is still arguably a big freaking deal.

She answers the phone, and I immediately go, "Listen, I can't explain now but there's been a Karma Club breakthrough and I need you to meet me at Tennie's in"—I look out the window to check which street I'm passing—"five minutes."

"Really? What is it?"

I pound the accelerator to make it through a yellow light. "I can't tell you. It'll be better if you hear it in person. But trust me, it's good. Also, call Hinata and tell her to meet us there too."

Ino is quiet, and I can picture her trying to do some sort of calculation in her head in an attempt to figure out what my so-called breakthrough could possibly be. When she comes up short, she says, "Okay, I'll call her and leave now."

Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of bright light. Like the kind you see when celebrities are making their way down the red carpet and the paparazzi are taking pictures of them. I wonder if there's a celebrity in town, but I don't dare look behind me because I'm already driving with one hand on the wheel and one hand holding my phone, and I can't really afford to crash into a telephone pole right now.

"Okay, see you soon," I say before hanging up and tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

Five minutes later, I arrive at Tenten's house and look into my rearview mirror to see Ino's headlights pulling in right behind me. Hinata must already be there. She and Tenten were neighbors after all. We hurry up the front steps and knock on the door.

Mrs. Li answers, wearing her nightgown and an untied bathrobe over it. She looks at us and then looks at the clock on the wall. "Ino and Sakura, it's almost eleven o'clock. Isn't it a bit late for visits?" so Hinata must not have reached yet.

"I know, Mrs. Li," I say. "I'm sorry it's so late, but we really have to talk to Tenten."

Mrs. Li sighs deeply and steps aside, letting us pass through the open door. Then she calls to the back of the house. "Tenten, your friends are here to see you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Li! Oh, Hinata will also be coming in a few minutes, by the way."

Tenten appears wearing a pair of old boxer shorts and a T-shirt. "Did someone die?" she asks sarcastically.

"Not yet," I say, flashing her a mischievous smile.

Tenten catches my hint. "Right, okay. Where's Hinata?"

"She'll be here in a few minutes. Let's wait for her."

After some time, Hinata finally appeared, her cheeks red. "S-sorry I was so late! It's just that. My father was—"

"It's fine, Hinata. Let's just go to my room before it gets even more late." Tenten interrupts.

We follow her, and once we're safely behind her closed door, I rip out the e-mail and shove it into Tenten's hands, hardly able to contain my excitement. "Read this," I command.

Tenten takes the page and starts reading it while Ino and Hinata hovers over her shoulder, trying to get a good look.

Tenten's eyes start to widen, and a few seconds later, Ino's and Hinata's follow suit. They've arrived at the good part. The clincher. The sentence that is going to assure us a Karma Club victory bigger than we ever imagined.

Tenten finishes reading first and looks up at me. "Is this for real?" she asks, her face covered with disbelief.

I nod slowly but confidently. "Yep. I found it in Kiba's e-mail. It arrived while I was logged in. And since he's at his big, flashy birthday party, he probably hasn't even seen it yet."

Hinata looks up at me next. "Cheated?" she confirms, her face pale, like she couldn't believe someone would actually do that. "On his SATs?"

I nod again. "According to this Shino guy," I say, tapping the page. "Kiba hasn't yet paid him the other half of the five thousand dollars that he promised to give him in exchange for taking the SATs in his place."

Ino covers her mouth with her hand. "This is _huge_!"

"I know!"

Tenten's face flashes with realization. "And this explains why he had to take the test at another school, where no one would know that it wasn't him."

"Yes!" I say. I've already figured this out in the time it took me to get here, but it's almost as fun rediscovering it all over again with my friends. "I mean, this Shino guy must obviously be good with disguises and all. All he had to do was lend him his school ID and voilà! Shino is Kiba for the day, Kiba scores a whopping 2350 on his SATs and receives an early acceptance letter to Konoha College."

Hinata just shakes her head in disbelief. "I always thought that was a pretty big jump from a 1900."

"It was!" I exclaim. "But he told me he went to one of those Kaplan classes after school to help raise his score. When really he was actually paying this guy five thousand dollars to take the test for him . . ."

And right then another realization hits me and I gasp. "That's why he got the job at the pizzeria. He needed the money to pay this guy, which also explains why he quit a few months later."

I never thought Kiba would be capable of pulling off something like this. I dated him for two years, and suddenly it feels like I don't know him at all. And now I'm starting to wonder if I ever did.

"So, what are we going to do with this?" Ino asks, her eyes buzzing with excitement.

"Duh," Tenten says, flashing her a look. "We're going to send it to KU."

"But…isn't that a bit mean?" Hinata says, biting her lip. We all give her a look. She flushes, "right. Cheated on his SAT's. Bigger picture."

I grin and bite my bottom lip in anticipation. Kiba Inuzuka will never survive an SAT cheating scandal. He'll get kicked out of KU's incoming class. Our high school will revoke his status as class president. He'll be totally humiliated in front of everyone. And best of all, Ami Watanabe will want nothing to do with him.

The most hilarious part is this isn't even really revenge. He brought this upon himself! This universal imbalance was obviously decided by a much higher force than just us. All we're doing is making sure it becomes public knowledge.

And it's really too bad . . . for Kiba, I mean. Because had he not completely tossed me aside for Ami Watanabe like I was a moldy piece of stale bread, I might have looked upon this little discovery a bit differently. I might not have felt the desire to anonymously share it with the Konoha College admissions office.

But I guess that's water under the bridge now. Ironically, though, it's the same bridge that Kiba felt such a strong desire to burn the moment he finished crossing it.

At this point, it becomes pretty obvious to me whose side Karma is on. And what kind of birthday present it has in mind for Kiba Inuzuka.

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_Monday morning, during _the break between first and second period, I'm in one of the stalls in the girls' bathroom, daydreaming about what will happen when the two envelopes that we dropped anonymously in the mailbox this morning reach their final destinations of Konoha College, Japan and Princeton, New Jersey (home of the College Board, which oversees the SAT).

My daydreams are quickly interrupted, however, when I hear the door open and the sounds of high pitched, girlie laughter flood into the tile-covered room. Which, by the way, does not make for the best acoustics when it comes to keeping your conversations to yourself. And this much is obvious when what I immediately recognize as Ami Watanabe's voice says, "Yeah, she is such a loser. It's hard to imagine anyone still respecting her."

Now, I'm not normally a paranoid person, but you can understand, given recent circumstances, why I might have a sneaking suspicion that Ami is talking about me. And for that reason, I stay quiet, thankful that I chose the very last stall.

"I mean, can you believe she even has the nerve to show her face at school?" Ami asks her bathroom companion.

"Totally not," I hear the other person, whom I can only assume to be Karin Hiragizawa, say.

But then I hear Ami say, "And I still have to hang out with her, you know, for the sake of looking like the supportive friend, but her reputation is totally toast."

Okay, so now I'm sure she's not talking about me because I definitely don't remember Ami and me ever hanging out.

"It's so sad how Karin thinks that just because she hangs out with me people actually like her," Ami continues.

My jaw immediately drops to the floor. Why is Ami bashing her best friend? Okay, that is _not _Karin in here with her but someone else entirely. And this is how she talks about her _friends_? I can't even imagine the stuff she must have said about me over the past month.

"Yeah," agrees the mystery girl. "She's totally lame."

I immediately find this hilarious because it's pretty obvious from what I'm overhearing that Ami will just as likely walk into another bathroom on another floor after another period and start saying nasty things about _this _girl to someone else. So the fact that she's so faithfully pledging her loyalty to Ami Watanabe is really somewhat comical.

Comical as in in-my-head funny. Not laugh-out-loud funny. Obviously.

"Yeah, and you know, just because she dated Sasuke Uchiha doesn't automatically make her prom queen or anything," Ami continues.

Wait a minute. _Dated_ Sasuke? As in past tense? When did they break up? This is news to me. Is that what Sasuke was talking about on Friday when he said he wasn't going to Kiba's birthday party?

I instantly feel totally stupid for even entertaining the thought that his reason for skipping the party had anything to do with me. Clearly it didn't. It was about Sasuke not wanting to be around his now ex-girlfriend.

"Well, that much is obvious," the other girl faithfully replies. "There's no way she would ever beat you for prom queen."

"Especially after what Sasuke did to her last night," Ami whispers, conspiratorially. It's one of those whispers that's only used for emphasis, not because you're actually trying to hide what you're saying from anyone.

_What? What did he do? _I immediately wonder.

"Wait a minute. What did he do?" the other girl asks as if she's able to hear my thoughts through the stall door.

Ami giggles. "You mean you don't know? I thought everyone knew."

I shake my head while inside I'm screaming, _I don't! I don't know!_

"Omigod," Ami begins in a low, traitorous voice. And I can tell just from the tone of it that she's more than happy to retell this particular story about her supposed best friend. I lean closer to the stall door, anxious to hear every word that's about to be said. "So last week Karin tried to break up with Sasuke because she said that they really weren't a very good match. You know, because he's kind of spoiled and all, with his parents owning like ten houses or whatever. Which was a really stupid move on her part, 'cuz who wouldn't want to date him, right? Anyway, he got really pissed off that she was breaking up with him and because she told him he was uninvited to Kiba's birthday. So on Friday night, while the rest of us were at the party, he snuck into the school and wrote something totally awful on her locker." She pauses in anticipation. "Karin and I saw it when we got to school this morning."

"What did he write?" the other girl asks with unbridled eagerness.

"It's so terrible, I don't even think I can repeat it."

She _does _repeat it. Except, despite the fact that I'm leaning so far forward I'm close to falling over, all I can hear are incomprehensible whispers.

"Poor Karin," the mystery girl replies solemnly.

"Yeah," Ami says, trying her best to sound sympathetic. "Can you believe he did that to her?"

It _is _actually really hard for me to believe that Sasuke would do that. I mean, it seems so petty and immature . . . whatever it is that he wrote. He's usually so cold and aloof, he wouldn't something so immature. I know he has a reputation for being a jerk, but after tutoring him for these past two weeks, I've kind of gotten to know him, and he just doesn't seem like the type of guy to write something nasty on a locker, no matter how pissed off he was.

My thoughts about Sasuke are brought to a screeching halt when I hear Ami change subjects and say, "Ugh, I don't know why I'm suddenly breaking out! I've gotten like three pimples in the past week!"

My face brightens, and I sit up a bit straighter on my throne, which I'm sure has now left a semi-permanent red ring across my butt, but I don't really care. I debate reaching into my backpack and taking out my cell phone to text the rest of The Karma Club, but the thought of dropping it on the floor and being discovered after hiding out in here for the whole of this conversation makes me decide otherwise. So I bite my lip to keep from breaking out into joyous laughter and listen as Ami's new friend tries to fulfill her civic girl duty by telling Ami that she looks perfect and the pimples are hardly even noticeable.

Impatiently, I wait until they finally leave. Then I stand up, stretch my legs, because I have been sitting there for quite a while, and flush the toilet. I'm at least ten minutes late to my next class, but I hardly care.

I take out my phone and text Tenten, Hinata and Ino, asking them if they think the jewelry store sells any charms in the shape of a big fat zit.

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	16. Mr Uchiha and the Secret Love Affair

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**extra-**okay, this is what all of you've been waiting for-a whole chapter of Sasuke. mostly. :)

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_14-_** Mr. **_Uchiha _**and **_the _**Secret **_Love _**Affair**

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_Ami's unsightly blemishes _only get worse through the week. And people are starting to take notice. Because when the most popular girl in school, famous for her glistening amber hair and flawless skin, starts turning into a walking zit factory, it's kind of hard to miss. On Wednesday, I even spot her wearing a baseball cap to cover up the breakouts on her forehead until a teacher makes her take it off because we're not allowed to wear hats in school. Then, on Thursday, as she's walking down the hallway, some guy yells out, "Hey, Ami, how about laying off the chocolate?"

And although she hides it pretty well by making a disparaging remark back to him, I can tell that it crushes her. By Friday, she's called in sick. And she continues to call in sick the following Monday and Tuesday.

My friends and I take this as an obvious sign that we have reached yet another milestone in our campaign, and on Saturday we set off to decide on the most appropriate victory charm to add to our bracelets.

The first thing Tenten suggests is a mortar and pestle, and I have absolutely no idea what that even is. Bu apparently, it's some official symbol for the pharmaceutical industry. It looks like an old-fashioned bowl or large cup (that's the mortar part) with a rounded sticklike mixing device (the pestle). Then on the side of the bowl are the letters _Rx_. Tenten says she's forced to stare at the one hanging over the pharmacy store opposite where she works all day.

I guess it makes sense after our night playing pharmacist in Ami's bathroom. And surprisingly we are able to find a charm in the shape of this very symbol online. I guess there are a lot of pharmacists out there with charm bracelets. From the minute I clasp it on, I have a feeling it might draw attention, because it's sort of a random thing for a teen to have on her bracelet.

And this is exactly what happens the Tuesday after next, when I'm tutoring Sasuke again, this time in the dining room of his house as opposed to the school library. His living room looked like it came right out of a home décor magazine, with big black and white rugs, a 52' inch flat screen, a black leather couch and all the works. It was kind of intimidating, even though I've been here before. And that wasn't a memory I wanted to remember. "Why do you have a pharmacy symbol on your charm bracelet?" he asks.

I decide to play dumb. "Huh?"

Sasuke reaches over and touches the dangling silver charm on my bracelet. "Isn't that the symbol for a pharmacist?"

I look down at what he's touching, and for a second the only thing I can focus on is how close his fingertips are to the back side of my wrist. Which is ridiculous because I'm not interested in Sasuke Uchiha whatsoever, especially after what he did to Karin last week. Not that I'm a big fan of Karin or anything, but still, not a cool thing to do. And second of all . . . well, I'm just not interested in him period.

So I really shouldn't care if his skin is now mere millimeters away from mine.

I subtly pull my wrist away and execute a very dramatic pen-reaching move to cover the fact that I just purposely avoided his touch. Then I say, "Oh, that? Um, yeah. I'm not sure why I have it."

_Smooth. Real smooth, Sakura._

And then Sasuke looks at me funny and says, "What do you mean you're not _sure_? Didn't you put it on there? Or were you attacked by the evil charm fairy?"

Okay, I don't really appreciate his sarcasm right now. Especially when I'm struggling to get myself out of this mess without doing any permanent damage.

I reach back and scratch my head even though it doesn't really itch, but for some reason this seems to be the thing people do when they're trying to come up with believable stories on the fly. I'll be the first to document in writing that it doesn't work.

"Yes," I say, somewhat rudely. "Of course I put it there. I just don't know what it means."

Sasuke nods warily. He either thinks I'm lying or has decided I'm totally crazy. At this point, I'm not really sure which scenario I would prefer. I'm hoping that he'll just drop the whole thing and forget about me and my stupid charms. In order to facilitate that outcome, I point down at the textbook in front of us and say, "So, is this whole pronoun replacement thing starting to make sense to you yet?"

But of course, he doesn't let it go. He doesn't care about pronoun replacements or anything else in that textbook. All he cares about is solving the mystery of the unaccounted-for charm. Like he's freaking Sherlock Holmes or something and figuring out the stories behind strange, out-of-place charms is his life's passion.

What a loser. _Yeah, right. As if._

"I'm just wondering because it seems like every time you tutor me, you have a new charm on your bracelet. Did someone give you the pharmacist charm?"

I nod slowly and say, "Yes." Because that seems like the right answer even though I'm not quite sure why.

Sasuke shoots me another strange look. "And the person who gave it to you didn't tell you why?"

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and stare down at the page. "Uh-huh. That's about the gist of it."

Sasuke begins to tap his notebook rapidly with the tip of his pen. "Okay. That's kind of weird, but whatever."

I nearly breathe a heavy sigh of relief when he turns his attention to the open textbook on the table.

Except it doesn't stay there. A few seconds later, he looks at me again. _Oh my God, he's not going to let this stupid thing go, _I think. But instead he simply asks, "Do you want a soda?"

Even though I don't really want one, I say yes. Sasuke gets up and heads to the kitchen. He returns a minute later carrying two cans of soda. I take one, pop the top, and sip it slowly. I'm not thirsty, but I don't want to be rude. My dad always taught me that when you're a guest in someone's home you eat what they put on your plate and you drink what they offer you. Although I'm guessing that, when he said that, he wasn't talking about those parent-free house parties where someone puts a beer in your hand the minute you walk through the door.

For a brief moment, Sasuke and I sip our sodas in silence. It's kind of awkward, but honestly, I'm not sure why. I mean, I know I should just continue on with what I came here to do, help him with his English homework. Which is ridiculous still, because he can sometimes pronounce the words better than me, But for some reason all I want to do is ask him about Karin. Ask him why he would write something so terrible across her locker in red spray paint.

I saw it for myself yesterday before the school janitors sandblasted it off, and let's just say it wasn't pretty. You really have to detest someone to write something like that for the whole world to see. And the more I sit there thinking about it, pretending to be all into my can of soda, the more I dislike him for it. It's just kind of tacky and classless.

"So, should we get back to it?" Sasuke says after downing the last of his drink.

I force myself to smile and set my soda off to the side. "Yep, let's get cracking. Your parents _are _paying me by the hour."

He chuckles, and I immediately regret saying it. I feel my face flush, and I look away. Did that sound dirty? I didn't mean it to sound dirty. His parents really _are _paying me by the hour . . . to help him with his homework. But when I look back at Sasuke again, I notice that he's watching me with those dark eyes. Like he's expecting me to do something or say something very important. And not this-pronoun-replaces-this-noun type of important.

I'm about to open my mouth to ask him why the heck he's looking at me like that when he says, "I should probably tell you something before we continue."

My first thought is that he's going to come clean. He's going to tell me the whole story about what happened with Karin and her locker and the spray paint. And it's all going to make sense. And he's going to be pardoned in my mind. Because for some reason, unbeknownst to me at this moment, I really need him to be.

"What's that?" I say, trying to act casual and unassuming.

He clears his throat in the way that people do when they're about to confess something. "When I came to the counseling office to sign up for tutoring," he begins, "I kind of . . . um, requested you."

_Huh?_

_What does he mean he _requested _me? He didn't even know me. Did he?_

"Why?" I ask.

He shrugs and refuses to make eye contact with me. For the first time, I realize that he looks nervous.

But why on earth would he feel nervous around me? I'm just plain old Sakura Haruno. The smart pink-haired girl who got dumped at the Loft. Trust me, I'm not anyone to be nervous about.

"I don't know," he replies. "When I saw you in the office that day—you know, when you confused me for Akira-san?—I thought you were kind of cute, and . . . well, I know you're not supposed to pick out tutors because they're cute, but hey, it can't hurt, right?"

_Cute? Sasuke Uchiha thinks I'm cute? As in little-girl cute? Like "Oh, look at her in her cute ballerina costume." That kind of cute? Clearly, that's what he means. Right? Okay. I'm officially brain-dead._

"I asked Akira-san if you tutored English, and so here we are."

I'm not quite sure how to respond to this. It's not every day that one of the most popular and good-looking guys in school tells you he handpicked you. Granted, it was out of a pool of academic dorks, but still. So I just go, "Okay."

Sasuke looks even more uncomfortable than he did a few seconds ago. "I really don't know why I felt like I had to tell you that. I just . . . did."

"Okay," I say again, feeling incredibly stupid. But honestly, it's the only word coming to my mind right now. How's that for academic?

Before I can think of anything more articulate to say, Sasuke is suddenly kissing me. Yes, completely out of the blue like that. And it's totally amazing. His lips feel like silk, and he tastes like soda and peppermint and dark chocolate. Obviously I know where the soda came from, but the mint and the chocolate? Anyone's guess at this point. Not that I care in the slightest.

I'm feeling tingles in my toes that I honestly can't remember if I ever felt while kissing Kiba. I'm thinking not, since I would've remembered it. This was entirely new and exciting. I've…never felt like _this._ But there's also this looming sense of trepidation. And I can hear a voice deep inside of me screaming for it to stop. That this guy clearly isn't who he makes himself out to be. That it's an act. Sasuke Uchiha, the beautiful, polite, aloof, amazing kisser is really Sasuke Uchiha the evil spray painter who writes awful things on your locker.

Maybe it's like a Jekyll and Hyde type of thing. Or maybe it's triggered by a full moon. Well, that's fine. I can simply kiss him like this and then, whenever the moon is full, I'll just steer clear of him. The reasons for stopping this mind-blowing-fireworks-exploding-sparks-erupting kiss dead in its tracks are flying at me like fastballs, but one by one I just keep knocking them out of the park.

Finally, Sasuke pulls away and we look at each other for a moment and I kind of expect him to say something like "Okay, so how about those English pronouns?" and act like nothing even happened, but instead he goes, "I guess we shouldn't tell my parents that they're paying for _that_."

I break into a fit of nervous laughter. "Yeah, probably not."

"Although, I most definitely _would _pay for that." He says with a sinfully beautiful smirk.

I beam because I know it's a compliment and not a suggestion that I should be hanging out on Hollywood Boulevard after midnight waiting for Richard Gere to show up in his borrowed Lotus. I just know my face is as red as a tomato, how can it not be?

It's completely unethical for me to be making out with a student while I'm on the clock, but I just can't help myself. We try to focus on English, we really do, but after about five minutes of playing that game where you look at someone until they look up and then you look away and then it happens all over again in reverse, we just end up kissing again. This time with a bit more intensity as he reaches around behind my head and pulls me into him, which totally makes me melt. It was pure heaven.

We continue to kiss for what feels like hours until I hear the front door open and Sasuke's mother walks into the house pulling a rollaway suitcase behind her. And that's when we quickly break away and do our very best impressions of two people studying at the dining room table.

"I'm back from Geneva!" his mother announces brightly. She was a beautiful woman, with dark hair reaching till her waist, curling up at the ends and bright onyx eyes. She was smiling blindingly as she looked at her son. So Sasuke obviously got his looks from his mom, but I'm also sure his attitude is from his father. I'm pretty sure he's never smiled like _that_ anytime.

Sasuke pretends to be very engrossed in the book in front of him, and without looking up he says, "Hi, Mom." But I could see the slight pink hue on his cheeks, which made me melt more. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

"You must be Sasuke's tutor," she says, pulling a scarf from around her neck and hanging it on a coat rack next to the door and smiling kindly at me.

I press my swollen lips together tightly and nod, returning the smile weakly. "Yes, I'm Sakura. Nice to meet you, Uchiha-san."

Then with a _clickity-clack _of her heels on the hardwood floor, she walks into the dining room, ruffles up Sasuke's hair with an affectionate head rub, and flashes me a hurried but genuine smile. "Oh please! Call me Mikoto," she says, pausing just long enough to tap her manicured nails against the top of the high-backed chair that Sasuke is sitting in, "how's the English homework coming along?"

I fight with everything that I am to keep from cracking up, because if she only knew exactly what kind of _subjects _we were studying, I doubt I would be kept around much longer as a hired employee of the Uchiha family.

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_I decide not _to tell my three best friends about my make-out session with Sasuke. I normally tell them everything, but for some reason, I don't want to tell them about this. Maybe it's because I'll feel like I have to justify making out with someone who writes nasty things on the lockers of his ex-girlfriends. Or maybe it's because when we started the Karma Club, the three of us agreed to swear off _all _men until graduation, and I would feel bad for Hinata, who clearly had a thing for that Naruto Uzumaki. She practically faints whenever he comes near her.

I think I was even the one to say something along the lines of how all high school boys are heartbreakers and not worth our time. Honestly, I'm kind of regretting that passionate speech right about now.

It's not like I left Sasuke's house thinking that we were an item or anything. I don't want to get into something serious right now. In fact, I explicitly told Sasuke before I left that I didn't want anyone to know about this and he said he was fine with that. Of course this automatically made me worry. Was he fine with it because he's embarrassed he kissed me? Or because he too doesn't want to get into anything serious and just wants to keep me around as a fun hookup buddy/paid-by-the-hour English tutor?

The next morning, I'm in the kitchen with my little sister, Moegi, finishing off a bowl of cereal. Moegi is scribbling in a notebook and rambling on about her new science fair project, but I'm hardly listening. My mind is preoccupied trying to figure out how I'm going to make it through this entire day without accidentally spilling everything about my afternoon with Sasuke Uchiha.

"My hypothesis is that the plants that I expose to classical music will grow better than the ones I expose to heavy metal," Moegi is saying.

I gnaw on a spoonful of cereal and make a "hmm" noise to imply that I'm interested in what she's saying. But I'm really only interested in reliving in my head all the amazing things Sasuke can do with his tongue. And how sexy he looks with his hair messed up by my hands and how long his eyelashes are.

"Or maybe I should try hip-hop too," she muses as she sticks the tip of her pencil in her mouth. "What do you think?"

I'm about to give her a halfhearted "Yeah, good idea," when my mom walks into the kitchen looking like she's just seen a ghost. Her eyes are glazed over, and I'm seriously wondering if maybe she's gone into shock or something. She's holding a section from the newspaper and staring absently at it. When she reaches the kitchen table, she drops it in front of us.

"Mom, do you think I should add hip-hop to my experiment?" Moegi asks, clearly oblivious to our mother's catatonic state.

"Mom?" I ask. "Are you all right?" But then my eyes catch a glimpse of the paper, and suddenly I understand what this is about.

I desperately grab hold of the paper and bring it closer to my face to get a better look. "Oh my God," I say, stunned.

Moegi drops her pencil and attempts to peer over my shoulder. "What? What is it?" Then she sees what I see. And her surprise is just as transparent. "Is that Kiba?"

But I don't even respond. I'm too busy scouring the page with my eyes. Once again, Kiba Inuzuka's picture is staring back at me from the pages of a familiar publication. This time, however, it's not some girlie teen magazine; it's the _Konoha Valley Tribune . _And this time, the headline says nothing about him being the world's best boyfriend.

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	17. Teen Implicated in SAT Cheating Scandal

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_17-_** Local **_Teen _**Implicated **_in _**SAT **_Cheating _**Scandal**

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I read the article top to bottom, my eyes practically devouring the words. "Acceptance rescinded," "SAT scores revoked," "Konoha College admissions office disappointed." And yet, when I reach the end, I'm still hungry for more.

"He cheated on the SATs?" my sister cries in disbelief.

My mom is standing there, studying me. She's waiting for a reaction. And laughing out loud like a sadistic psych-ward patient is probably not the one she's expecting. So I have to fake it.

I gasp in shock and look up at her. "Is this for real?"

She nods and takes a seat next to me. "You didn't know anything about it? It happened while you two were dating."

I shake my head. "No. I had no idea. I mean, I know he got a really high score, but I just thought he studied a lot."

"How did he do it?" Moegi asks.

I flash her a calm, patient glance, even though my stomach is bubbling up with excitement. "The article says he hired someone to take the test for him."

Moegi's eyes widen. "Whoa. That's really bad."

"I can't believe it," my mom muses. "Kiba, of all people. He just doesn't seem the type to be so dishonest." I want to scoff at this and say something like "Oh you'd be surprised," but I hold my tongue.

"The school says it was an anonymous tip-off," my mom remarks. "I wonder if the guy who took the test for him got a guilty conscience."

I nod, realizing that this is a very good explanation, and I think I'll stick with it from here on out should anyone else question me.

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When I get to school later that morning, the hallways are buzzing with the news. It's kind of like déjà vu. It was less than two months ago that I walked through these hallways and listened to people whisper about Kiba's face in _Contempo Girl _magazine. And today they're talking about him again. Except for a very different reason. And in my opinion, it's a much more deserved kind of attention.

Kiba quickly becomes like someone with an infectious disease around school. No one will even get close to him. Including Ami Watanabe, pimple faced and all. Although her complexion is starting to clear up slightly, and I'm assuming it's because during those days when she called in sick, she went straight to her dermatologist's office and demanded a stronger prescription. But I still feel pretty confident in our victory, knowing that the vegetable oil will undoubtedly stay in her pores for at least another three weeks before it is completely eliminated from her system. And even then, it will probably be a good month or two before her skin is back to normal. That is, if the acne doesn't scar. One can dare to dream.

So Operation Splitsville comes full circle, and Kiba finds himself exactly where he should be . . . alone. I admit, it wasn't exactly the most direct route to get him there, but hey, who am I to argue with Karma?

Once again, I can hear the E! News correspondent's voice in my head as he eloquently reports on the information that's been filling the hallways. "There are definitely signs of trouble in paradise. Newly established Konoha High couple Kiba Inuzuka and Butter Face Ami Watanabe are rumored to be on the verge of a split after evidence surfaced today linking Mr. Inuzuka to a very controversial cheating scandal. Ms. Watanabe has yet to give any official comment on the status of their relationship, but sources close to the couple have stated that it is definitely coming to an end. Rumors of a pending split first surfaced, but were immediately denied, a month ago, when Mr. Inuzuka was said to be possibly involved with a woman by the name of Catherine Linton. Whether or not these more recent separation reports have anything to do with Inuzuka's involvement with Linton have yet to be determined. Catherine Linton, the mystery woman behind the previous rumors, was unavailable for comment."

And so the three of us are able to celebrate our final victory. It's quite a ceremony actually. Ino splurged on some delicious red velvet cupcakes from the gourmet bakery in town, and the four of us sit in a circle on the floor of her room as we simultaneously snap the fifth and final charm onto our bracelets.

This one in the shape of a heart . . . that has been split in two.

It holds many meanings actually. Because not only does it represent Kiba's feelings about having lost Ami and his acceptance to Konoha College but it also represents what we had to go through to get here. Each of us with our own, devastating heartbreak. And those heartbreaks were what inspired the four other charms on our wrists. So we agreed that the broken heart was the perfect final addition to our collection.

After the initial buzz of Kiba's cheating and his consequent breakup with Ami wears off around school and within the club, things fall back into a normal routine. Ino works her regular quarter-time hours at the flower shop, Tenten starts getting ready for an up-coming martial arts competition, Hinata still works at Eve's Closet, and Sasuke and I spend most afternoons hiding out in his room. Okay, so that part's not really normal routine, but it sure is good.

Fortunately, I'm not his tutor anymore. I lied to Akira-san and told him that I was having trouble keeping up with my school-work. So he assigned Sasuke to someone else. Because honestly, after two or three tutoring sessions where all we did was make out on his couch, picking up my check from the counseling office started to feel a lot like prostitution. And I guess that would make Akira-san my pimp.

Okay, gross.

I've _almost _managed to entirely convince myself that I don't care about what Sasuke wrote on Karin's locker. I mean, Karin's not exactly the nicest person in the world. I know that's no excuse for what Sasuke did, but I'm sorry, when someone kisses like that, you just end up telling yourself things . . . lots of things. Anything to make sure the kisses don't stop.

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On Saturday night, I'm lying on Sasuke's humongous bed (with my clothes on, thank you very much) and we're making out and it feels incredible, when we're rudely interrupted by the sound of my cell phone ringing.

It's Ino's ring tone, but I ignore it and continue on with what I'm doing.

"Do you want to get that?" Sasuke asks me in one of those stifled, in-between-kiss mumbles.

"No," I murmur back and pull him closer to me.

He doesn't seem to mind this response because he doesn't argue with me and so things keep going on as planned . . . or I guess I should say as _not _planned. Because never in a kazillion years did I ever _plan _on this. It just kind of happened. If you had told me a few months ago that right now, on this Saturday night, I'd be lying on a bed in one of the infamous Uchiha mansions with Sasuke's tongue in my mouth while the Loft party that he claims not to have any interest in attending is going on only a few short miles away, I would have told you that you were absolutely crazy. Because people like me don't make out with people like Sasuke.

The phone rings again, and again it's Ino. I groan slightly, and Sasuke pulls away and sits up on the bed. Then he pulls my cell phone out of my bag and hands it to me. "Whoever's calling is being pretty persistent, so maybe you should answer it."

I shake my head, push Ignore on my phone, and toss it aside. "It's Ino," I reply. "She's always persistent. It's her MO. I'll call her back later."

But then the phone rings a third time and Sasuke gives me this look like "just answer the annoying thing and get it over with so we can continue where we left off."

I sigh and reluctantly pick up the phone and push the Talk button. "Hey, Ino-pig," I say, trying to sound like I'm just chilling by myself and did not just have an earth-shattering experience right now. "What's up?"

"Forehead?" There's something in Ino's voice that makes me sit up a little bit straighter. It actually sounds a lot like fear. And on Ino, that simply doesn't fit.

"Ino, are you okay?"

There's silence on the line, and I feel a tingle of apprehension run up my spine. I repeat myself, this time much more persistently. Spencer senses the concern in my tone and mouths, "What's wrong?" I shake my head in response and turn away from him.

Then finally Ino replies, "No, not really."

"What happened?"

I hear her take a long, deep breath before she says, "I'm at the police station."

"What? Why?" Immediately I think of the Karma Club. We've been exposed. Busted. It's all over. Someone must know that we swapped Ami's prescription or dropped the underwear into Hidan's shopping bag. And now we're totally dead.

But instead Ino says, "The store was robbed tonight, and I was held up at gunpoint."

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	18. Something Wicked Comes your Way

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

* * *

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

* * *

**Extra-** guys, I've changed hinata's ex-boyfriend from Shino to Kankurou, since I've already used shino as the guy who helped Kiba cheat on his SAT's. hope there's no confusion on this topic.

**Extra(2)-** **witchwinx,**_tortuejeanne13,_**YuYu99,**_Melodi Moon, _**Embers N Ashes,**_sasuke14, _**jessiek23, **_VioletDemon241, _**Tamniin, **_silver teardrops 717, _**Sam,xXCobaltFlameXx, **_EmiliaKyuchi, _**Fluoradolescent, **_aalc95, _**shortycherry, **_StoryLover95, _**OpenPervert-Chan—**special thanks to all of you for reviewing! I'll try to update like I did before :)

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow _

**Chapter **_18-_** Something **_Wicked _**Comes **_your _**Way **

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_I nearly drop _the phone and scramble to keep it up to my ear. _"Whaaat?_" I sputter. "Are you okay?"

"Just a little freaked out," she replies quietly. "Would you mind coming down here and keeping me company?" She's definitely calmer than I would have been in her situation.

"Yes," I say, already leaning over the side of Sasuke's bed to grab my shoes. "I'm coming right now."

"Is everything okay?" Sasuke asks after I hang up the phone.

If it weren't for the fact that I'm totally freaking out at the moment, I might have found his concern endearing. I mean, up until now it's only been about kissing with us—really great kissing, obviously—but the subject of a relationship has yet to surface. Which I'm fine with, honestly. I don't need that kind of complication in my life right now. I just need to get accepted to a decent college, graduate, and move on. I don't have time for a boyfriend anyway. But the way Sasuke is looking at me right now, all intense and worried, it's definitely starting to resemble the way a boyfriend would look at you. Like he's concerned about me. As soon as I see it in his eyes, I realize how much I've missed that look. And how much I've missed having a guy in my life who cares about me enough to look at me like that.

I toss my phone into my bag and stand up. "It's Ino. The flower shop that she works at was robbed tonight and she was held up at gunpoint. I'm going down to the police station to be with her."

"That's terrible. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No!" I instinctively shout and then feel guilty for reacting so harshly. Especially when he's being so nice to me. "Sorry," I say, more softly. "But I still haven't told my friends about us, and if you show up, then, well, that's a lot of explaining to do. And I don't want to overload her right now."

Sasuke nods and runs a hand through his hair. "You're right. At least let me drive you."

I agree to that because it's not like he's going to come inside. He'll just drop me off in front and drive away. Plus, it's probably best that I don't drive right now.

When Sasuke pulls up to the police station, I face him and offer a sincere "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Before I can turn to leave, he puts his hand on my leg and says, "I had fun tonight. I mean, before the phone call."

"Me too," I say hurriedly. Just as I'm reaching for the door handle, I catch sight of Tenten walking from the parking lot with Hinata to the front of the station. "Crap!" I yell, ducking down in my seat.

"What?" Sasuke asks, looking out of the window.

"Tenten and Hinata! She's walking into the building. Can you see them?"

Sasuke squints past me. "Yeah, their almost at the front door."

"Well, tell me when their inside the building."

My head is now practically buried in my lap, and I'm really wishing that I had taken more yoga classes after that spiritual retreat with my mom. I don't think my body was quite meant to bend this way.

"Actually, Tenten just stopped in front, and now she's taking out her phone," Sasuke reports from the driver seat. "Yep, she's talking on her phone now."

I groan loudly. This is definitely not the most comfortable position I've ever been in, and I'm not sure how much longer I can stay here before my legs shrivel up and fall off. They're already starting to cramp.

"Are they gone yet?"

Sasuke shakes his head and answered with a hint of amusement. "Nope, still on that cell phone."

"Jeez, Ten!" I think quickly and then say, "Okay, pull around the side of the building, I'll get out there."

Sasuke smirks in amusement and puts the car in gear. "Whatever you say, Sakura."

It isn't until five minutes later, when I'm limping through the front doors of the police station with Tenten and Hinata, trying to shake out the stiffness in my legs, that I realize I've left my car at Sasuke's house. It's not like I can ask Tenten or Hinata to drop me off there on the way home. So I lie and tell her my parents dropped me off, hoping that later, after Tenten drives me home, I can call Sasuke and have him come pick me up. Then he can take me back to _his _house so I can drive back to _my _house in my own car. God, secret love affairs can be so complicated.

We find Ino sitting on a very uncomfortable-looking wooden bench near the entrance, and I run to her and throw my arms around her neck.

"Thanks for coming," she says weakly.

"Of course!" Hinata says.

"Tell us exactly what happened," Tenten urges.

Ino takes a deep breath and launches into this story about how her father was out making his nightly bank deposit and she was just walking over to the front door to lock it up when Kiba's mother showed up and begged to be let in so she could buy bandages and gauze. Yes, Kiba's mother! So Ino let her in, and Mrs. Inuzuka quickly grabbed what she needed, paid for it, and left. But then about thirty seconds after the door closed behind her, three men entered the store waving guns around and told Ino to put the register's money in a sack that they flung at her and then lie face-down on the ground.

"And the worst part"—Ino slouches back against the wall—"is that they were wearing these stupid masks, so I'm of absolutely no help to the police. All I can tell them is that the guys who robbed me were about six feet tall and that one of them smelled like hamburgers."

"Well, that's a start!" I say, trying to sound upbeat.

Ino cracks a meager smile. "Sorry to drag you down here. Were you doing anything important?"

I turn my head so I don't have to lie directly to her face and say, "No, just studying."

Tenten shoots me an odd look. "On a Saturday?"

I squirm slightly in my seat and mumble, "Yeah, big test on Monday." And I'm thankful when the interrogation ends there, though Hinata's gaze lingers on me a bit longer.

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Apparently, Ino's brush with death isn't the only bad thing destined to happen. On Monday evening when I get home from Sasuke's house, my parents are seated at the kitchen counter waiting for me with grim expressions on their faces.

"Who died?" I joke as I open the fridge and start rummaging around for a snack. My dad ominously taps his finger against a white envelope in front of him as he gives me this expectant look. Like I'm supposed to know exactly what's in the envelope and immediately respond to it.

"What's that?" I ask, completely uninterested as I locate a package of string cheese and close the refrigerator door.

"Why don't you tell _us_?" my dad replies, and I know right then that the news is not good.

My first thought is that it's a rejection from a college. But I know it's only March, and college letters don't come until April. I un-wrap the cheese, peel a long strand from the stick, and dangle it into my mouth.

"How am I supposed to know what it is if I'm seeing it for the first time?"

My dad slides the envelope toward me across the counter, and when I look down, I immediately notice that it's addressed to him and that it's already been opened, so now I know two things:

(1) Whatever is inside is bad, and

(2) Whatever is inside has already been viewed by my parents and therefore probably discussed at great length before it was brought to my attention.

I set my stick of string cheese down on the counter and carefully pull out the contents of the envelope. It's a single sheet of paper, and the first thing I see on it is a picture of me. Yes, me! I'm sitting behind the wheel in my car, apparently driving, because one hand is on the wheel and the other hand is . . . oh, crap.

The other hand is on my cell phone. And the cell phone is on my ear.

Okay, this is not good. But what kind of creepy stalker has been taking pictures of me while I'm driving and sending them to my parents?

Then I notice the writing above the picture. At the top of the page it reads, "Notice of Traffic Violation." And my heart sinks in my chest.

"I don't understand," I manage to get out after I look up and see my father staring at me, his eyes demanding an explanation but at the same time telling me that no explanation is going to get me out of this without severe punishment.

"It's a ticket from a traffic light camera," my mom explains without even a hint of compassion. "And your father's name is on it because the car is registered to him."

I think I'm just gonna play dumb at this point. Mostly because I have no idea what she's talking about. "A what?"

"There's a camera at the intersection of Main and Third, which is where this photo was taken a month ago," my dad says.

"You mean they took a picture of me driving?" I try to sound appalled. As if remarking on the injustice and violation of my privacy might actually gain me some sympathy points.

"Not only _driving_," my mom supplements, "but running a red light."

"_And _talking on your cell phone," my dad adds, hammering the nail in even deeper. "Which would explain why you would be careless enough to run a red light in the first place. Because you weren't _focused_."

Then it all comes flooding back to me. It was right after I stumbled upon the evidence that Kiba had cheated on his SATs and I was driving over to Tenten's house to tell her, Hinata and Ino the good news. That strange flash of light wasn't a celebrity being photographed by the paparazzi. It was _me _being photographed by a red light camera!

"But that light was yellow!" I argue, remembering how I plunged my foot down on the accelerator to make it through the light.

My dad takes the ticket from my hand and taps it with the back of his hand. "Apparently it wasn't."

I'm not sure what he's most upset about—the fact that I ran a red light or the fact that I was talking on my cell phone while I was driving. I really don't want to ask that question, because I know it will only turn into an explosion followed by one of those speeches that starts with "There are _many _things that bother us about this situation, Sakura. . ." So I keep my mouth shut.

"Your mother and I have discussed your punishment options, and apart from the fact that you will pay _both _fines on this ticket out of your own pocket, we've decided that the only appropriate thing to do is either take away your cell phone for two weeks or take away your car, because you seem to have misused the two privileges equally," my dad tells me.

I'm just starting to contemplate which one I would rather live without for the next two weeks, weighing the pros and cons of both in my head, when suddenly I realize this is not a choice that's being offered to me. The decision has already been made.

"For the next fourteen days, you will not be allowed to drive your car," my dad finishes.

"_What?" _I scream. I probably would have chosen the cell phone if I had to make a decision, because I can always borrow Tenten's, Ino's or Hinata's at school and then there's a landline here at the house. But taking away my car? That leaves me completely helpless and vulnerable. Not to mention immobile. How am I supposed to get to and from school?

And when I express this very question to my parents, my dad calmly replies, "You can take the bus."

I feel my eyes well up with tears. "I _cannot _take the bus. Only losers and freshmen take the _bus_!"

"Well, then you can get one of your friends to drive you," my mom says.

"Ino's getting ready for the play auditions all week, and Tenten and Hinata works after school!"

But there's not an ounce of sympathy on my dad's face. He just stands there and shrugs. "I guess the bus it is, then."

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**From **_the _**Official **_Notebook _**of **_the _**Karma **_Club_

**Karmic Beneficiary #5**

_**Name:**_ Kankuro Sabaku

_**Background: **_Ex-boyfriend of Hinata Hyuuga. Likes puppetry. Middle son of a multi-national company owner. Now having a long-distance relationship with Matsuri Maaya of Suna High School. Loves designer items.

_**Universal Imbalance: **_Cheated on karma club member with another girl while they were dating.

_**Valued Possession: **_His designer appearance

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	19. Operation Scarlet Letter

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main)

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece, the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so im writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

* * *

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

* * *

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**The Karma Club **

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_19-_** Operation **_Scarlet _**Letter **

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After the declaration of my (unfair) punishment, I head out to Ino's house as we all planned before. And as today is the last day I can use my car, it's the only time. After everyone reaches her house, we immediately run into her room and launch into the fifth and final mission that we have planned, Operation Scarlet Letter. This idea was all from our sweet little Hinata herself, which was a little surprising, since she usually isn't this vindictive, but the phrase 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' is certainly true in her case.

Well, actually she got the idea from the movie 'Easy A'. In the movie, the main lead had gotten her idea from this book 'Scarlet Letter', which is why we named the plan so. Basically, in the book, Hester had to wear a red letter A on all her clothing so everyone knew she had committed adultery. So our plan was to force the same punishment on our victim.

When Hinata had first told us her idea, I was shocked, then ecstatic. The plan was awesome, and I really loved the movie—Easy A. so Operation Scarlet Letter was really the perfect fit for Kankuro.

"So, are you ready to do this, Hinata?" Tenten asked after our planning session.

"Oh yes. I'm _so_ ready."

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We all quickly change into our "night camouflage." The same that we used in our previous plan. Basically it's just a fancy way of saying all black, and after how it kinda saved our asses in operation butter face, I wasn't going to complain.

As soon as I reach the top of the stairs, I can see that Tenten and Hinata are already waiting anxiously in Ino's bedroom. Hinata was bouncing, like—_literally_ bouncing. Wasn't she supposed to be, I don't know, nervous? Tenten was perched on the edge of the bed.

Then Ino comes in, all serious with her hands on her hips. Suddenly, all three of us were sitting on the bed waiting for her to speak.

"Okay people. This is our last mission and dammit, we are gonna make it count, you hear me?!" she yells.

"Ma'am yes, ma'am." Tenten responds jokingly with a grin. She was enjoying this.

"Alright. Now, the plan is simple. Kankuro lives in an apartment in the Akimichi buildings. I think he recently moved there or something. Anyway, the plan is, we break in to his apartment—"

"Wait, wait, wait. How in the world are we gonna break in? it's like a high-class building!" Tenten asked raising an eyebrow. I notice Hinata started trembling. She must be getting nervous now. Hell, I'm getting nervous.

Ino suddenly smirks, as if she expected someone to ask that and whips out something shiny, bringing all of our focus onto the object. A key. "Well, there may be some benefits to being friends with the building owner's son."

My eyes widen. I knew she was talking about Chouji. Chouji was the son of the owner of the famous Akimichi hotels and apartments. Her dad was best friends with his and Shikamaru's dad, and because of that, all three kids had met and known each other from childhood. Which doesn't necessarily mean they like each other. Ino was horrified at the beginning that she had to hang out with the two losers. But when did she become enough friends with him for I'm to agree to something like this in the first place? She must've seen something in my expression because she hurried to explain the rest of her plan.

"Anyway, back to the plan! So, I've asked Chouji to rent me Kankuro's key for one hour in exchange for one favor from me and it all worked out pretty well!" Ino said, grinning. Oh, that explains it. It must be food-related. It always is with Chouji.

"B-but Ino…isn't that, against the law or something?" Hinata spoke up.

Ino rolled her eyes dramatically. '"it _would_ be stealing if we stole the key. But in this case, we're just _borrowing_ the key! Okay? Okay! Anyway, I'd also asked Chouji if there was anytime Kankuro leaves his apartment, and he said that he had this big party today so he wouldn't be coming back for at least two hours. That's when we enter, all of ya with me?"

All three of us nod eagerly.

I raised my eyebrows. I was impressed and judging from the excite gleam in Tenten's eyes, I knew she was too. I don't know about Hinata though, she's never done something like this for herself, but that's why all three of us want to do this so bad.

"Okay, so after we enter his apartment, it's all yours Hinata! You know what to do, right? Just let go and avenge yourself, kay?" Ino said turning to Hinata. At this point, there was a big smile on her face. Then Ino suddenly turns to me.

"Okay, Sakura, your job is to help Hinata with the clothes, because we all know _you're_ not the best liar in the world."—I would probably take offense to that, but everyone knows it's true—" Tenten and I will be the guards. We'll be the lookouts, and if Kankuro comes sooner than expected, we'll try to distract him so that you guys can get out, got it?" Ino asks with her hands on her hips.

All three of us nod again, this time with smiles or grins on our faces. Ino smirks.

"Okay, then let's rock our last mission!"

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By the time the four of us pile into my car and drive the five miles to Kankuro Sabaku's apartment, the sun has completely set and darkness has almost entirely settled in. all of us were fidgeting with nervous energy. The butterflies in my stomach were slowly starting to feel like dragons, and if this was how I was feeling, I didn't even want to know how Hinata was faring. Our two weapons for this mission—the Iron box and the Red A iron-ons were sitting safely in the backseat as Tenten parks the car in the building's parking space. Thanks to Ino's scheming, we already know Kankuro's not going to be present today for at least an hour.

Ino starts to whisper instructions to all of us as she unbuckles her seat belt. "Once we're through the door, me and Tenten will stand outside while you both will carry out the scheme, alright?"

Hinata and I nod. "Got it."

Tenten takes the small iron box and the stack of iron-ons and hands it over to Hinata in the backseat. "Ready?"

Ino and I grin as Hinata nods as she takes the objects and swings the car door open. "Absolutely."

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Its…_big._ That's one way to sum up Kankuro's apartment. The rooms are massive. It was the ultimate bachelor pad, with one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen and a huge living room equipped with a flat-screen, a long leather couch, a shiny rug and many other gizmos.

Ino and Tenten were outside the door, keeping a look out. Thankfully, his flat was on the first floor which makes it easier for us. Hinata and I open the door to his bedroom and I had to stifle a gasp. Why do _all _our victims have such beautiful bedrooms and bathrooms? It was so unfair. I was still busy contemplating this when I heard Hinata's meek voice,

"Uh, Sakura…we have a _tiny_ problem."

I turn to see Hinata looking at something with wide eyes. I follow her gaze and stop. _Oh._

"He has a _lot _of clothesdoesn't he?" I ask out loud. Hinata nods slowly, still staring. From a dozen suits to a dozen shirts and t-shirts, there was a lot we had to cover. Why would a guy have so many clothes? Even _Ino_ didn't have this much, and that was saying something.

"Well, let's get started now if we want to finish it all in time." I sigh, but I could feel the excitement building up again. This was gonna be _fun._ Hinata smiles and rushes to plug the iron box to the electric socket. While she was doing that, I removed as much of the clothes as I could from their hangers and threw them on the huge bed. Coats, jackets, shirts, t-shirts all joined the growing pile. After doing that, I picked up the stacks of iron-ons we bought.

All the iron-ons were of the letter A and all of them were red. Now I could feel the butterfly-turned dragon things in my stomach again. There was no going back once I do it. it was risky actually, real risky, but then I looked at Hinata, who was gazing at the red A's with as much nervousness as I was, and I realized this was her turn to set karma right, and she needs a little push for this.

_What if we get caught?_ What if we were sent to jail?! He was the son of a multi-millionaire after all. But still…

With that thought in mind, I picked the first article of clothing from the pile—a silver grey blazer—and pressed on a big bright red A on the back. I nodded at Hinata and she pressed the hot iron on the red A hard, and we could see the steam around it. After a minute or so, she picked the iron up and peeled off the transfer paper and we both looked at the result.

A big fat red A standing for adultery was standing out on the once silver blazer, as if it was made that was perfect. In the Scarlet Letter, Hester had to wear a red letter A on all her clothing so everyone knew she had committed adultery. We were just forcing the same punishment onto Kankuro. When we looked at each other, we both burst out giggling.

After that, we were in a routine. I would pick an item of clothing and press on a big fat A, and she would iron on the letter, and viola. After we finished ironing on the letter, we put them back on a hanger and put them back into his wardrobe, making sure we kept it in a way that the back of the clothing was not seen, thus effectively hiding the red A's

We even ironed on the red A's on his designer pants and jeans. After we had covered almost all of his clothing, Hinata got the crazy idea to iron the letter onto his boxers. It seemed she was finally relaxing and I saw no problem with it, we were giggling the whole time.

Then suddenly I got a text:

From: Ino-pig

To: Sakura Haruno

Abort! Abort! He's here! We'll try to keep him distracted!

#passion4fashion

_Shit._

"Hinata! He's here already! Hurry! Pack up the stuff!" I whisper-yelled worriedly.

Her eyes widened as she whisper-yelled back, even though she didn't have to. Her voice was already soft.

"What? How? I thought it would at least take two hours or something!" she unplugged the iron and put it back in the plastic cover we had brought it in. I was busy scrambling around to pick up the transparent transfer-papers lying around on the ground. After all, we shouldn't leave any evidence around.

"I don't know! But Ino just texted me saying that he's outside!" I replied. Hinata eyebrows scrunched together in obvious displeasure. Come on, let's see what's happening over there." I said, gesturing towards the door.

We both walked as quietly as we could towards the door, which was a little hard for me, since the papers were making loud crinkling noises. At least, it was loud for us since we were keeping as quiet as we could.

We both pressed our ears to the door, and I could faintly make out Ino talking.

"—so, I winded up here! It was just luck that I saw someone I know! Isn't that just the luckiest thing? Huh? Isn't it, ol'buddy, ol'pal?!"

"Uhh…sure? But, I gotta go now. So, nice…talking to you…Ino." That was a male voice. Kankuro. The knob on the door suddenly turned and we jumped away from the door as if it was burning. He was going to open the door? I shared a panicking glance with Hinata. Her eyes were wide, and I'm pretty sure mine were too.

As the door was opening, I quickly pulled Hinata behind the door, praying he wouldn't see us. I'm pretty sure two girls hiding in one's apartment was suspicious, more so when one of them was one's ex-girlfriend. Hinata was squeezing my hand and her eyes were closed shut.

"But-but…I need your help! See, I still don't know how to get back! You're not going to leave a defenseless girl out on the streets are you?" Ino cried dramatically as she and Tenten stepped into the apartment after Kankuro entered. Her acting really was flawless, but maybe a little over-done.

I took the chance I got. "_Pssst!" _I hiss impatiently.

Tenten turned and her eyes widened as she saw us both standing behind the door. She quickly turned and saw Ino had followed Kankuro into his bedroom. Tenten quickly motioned for us to get out with her hands flapping about and we wasted no time. We ran out of the building, just slowing down when we were in the lobby and then running again when we were outside. After a few seconds, Ino and Tenten were right behind us as we rushed to our car and screeched out of the parking space .We were speeding off and well on our way.

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The car-ride the first two minutes was entirely silent. It was exactly like the time after operation butter-face. But then suddenly, someone snickered. And then everyone was laughing. Full blown out laughter, like we didn't know how to stop.

I could feel all the fear and the nervousness leaving my body as I giggled.

"You should've seen Kankuro's face as I started crying as soon as I saw him!" Ino cried out, laughing loudly.

I stopped giggling for a second and faced her, "Wait, you cried?!"

"Yeah," she giggled, "I wanted to make him as uncomfortable as I could!"

"It _was_ funny," Tenten nodded, grinning, "I'm pretty sure he though she was mental or something. But, Hinata? How was your end?"

Hinata's face was glowing and flushed, like she just ran a marathon. "Epic."

And then we were laughing again, talking about Hinata's stroke of genius to iron the A's on his boxers. And I pretended that if I strained my ears, I could actually hear a loud-pitched scream from Kankuro's apartment as he found out all his designer clothes now had bright fat red A's.

A girl can hope.

That week, our charm bracelets had a new charm.A ruby red A sparkled whenever the sun hit our wrists.

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	20. Truth Be Told

**disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**pairing-**SasuSaku(main)/ mostly Ino-Sakura-Hinata-Tenten friendship

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece; the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so I'm writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

**extra-**a fast update just for the loyal readers out there. sorry for keeping you waiting, i think this was my largest break between the chapters. no guarantee it wont happen again, since exams are right around the corner, but two chapters in one day makes it all good, right? :)

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_20-_** Truth **_be _**Told**

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_Fortunately, I only _have to take the bus _home _from school because Ino offers to drive me in the mornings.

On Friday afternoon, I'm on the school bus when my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I answer it, and Tenten instantly launches into this totally breathless retelling of a story about how she spotted her ex-boyfriend riding his bike home from school.

"What?" I say, feeling rather satisfied that at least I'm not the only one who has had to find alternative methods of transportation lately.

"I know," Tenten replies. "Word on the street is that Hidan's parents recently took _his _car away too!"

"No way!" I exclaim as I lean back and prop my knees up on the seat in front of me.

"Yes," Tenten confirms. "After the whole shoplifting thing."

I let out a hearty laugh. "That's awesome."

"Not only did he lose his spot on the varsity team but he lost his car too. And for much longer than a few weeks. They told him that if he wants his own car, he'll have to save up and buy one himself. So he could be riding that bike for a while!"

"Oh my God, that's classic."

"This is definitely something to add to the Karma Club notebook."

"Yes," I agree. "I'll get right on it."

After I hang up the phone, I check to make sure that no one is watching and pull the official club notebook out of my bag. I open it up and flip past several pages containing the various mission updates we've recorded over the last few weeks: Ami's breakout, Hidan's removal from the baseball team, the newspaper article about Kiba, the discovery that Sai's parents were making him see a shrink to help him deal with his unusual obsession with older women. When I eventually arrive at a blank page, I take out a pen and write "Hidan Update #2" across the top.

Underneath, I record today's date, followed by the latest breaking news that Hidan is now minus one very important piece of automotive machinery. Not like I'm one to judge or anything. I mean, I'm writing this very update while riding the school bus.

But the difference between Hidan and me is that he's a cruel, selfish jerk who broke Tenten's heart and therefore deserves everything that has come to him. I mean, his universal imbalance was epic. Catastrophic. I'm just trying to balance everything out again. I'm doing the universe a favor. And in the process, I somehow got caught up in a small stroke of bad luck. That's all.

I'm just finishing the update when my cell phone rings again. This time it's Sasuke. I can't help feeling small butterflies in my stomach when I see his name on the caller ID. I know we're only supposed to be having fun and he's not my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I can't get a little bit excited when he calls.

I close the notebook and put it on the seat next to me. Then I answer the phone.

"What's up, cutie?" Sasuke's velvety voice comes through the phone and I can almost feel my heart melting in my chest.

He does that sometimes. He calls me "cutie." And I won't lie, I absolutely love it. What girl wouldn't? But don't worry; I'm being completely responsible about the whole thing. Because every time he does, I quietly remind myself not to get too excited. I'm totally on top of this. After all, I've already seen what this guy is capable of doing to his girlfriends. And I'm not sure I can handle another public humiliation this year.

"Not much," I reply. "Just heading home."

"Do you wanna hang out?"

Okay, this is one of those questions that you really don't have to think about before you answer, so I don't. I just say, "Sure," even though what I actually mean is "Yes! Duh! Definitely! Without a doubt! Where do I sign up?"

"Cool. I'll leave my house now. How about I pick you up at your place in ten minutes?"

"Okay," I say. "See you then." And then I hang up without even thinking to check and see how much longer of a bus ride I have. Because apparently "How about I pick you up at your place in ten minutes?" is another one of those questions that you don't have to think about before you answer. Except, I probably _should _have thought about it. If I don't make it home before Sasuke gets there, then without a doubt he'll see me stepping off this bus, and there's no bigger turnoff than seeing the girl you're about to go make out with step off a big yellow school bus surrounded by a sea of metal-mouthed freshmen.

I quickly take out my cell phone again and call Sasuke back, but he doesn't answer.

_Crap! _Okay, I have to play this smart. If I see Sasuke sitting in my driveway when the bus turns around the curve in front of my house, I'll just ask the driver to drop me off at the next stop. Then I'll run back to my house and tell Sasuke that I went for a…a…a jog! Yeah. Jogging is sexy, right? It's like athletic and sporty and stuff.

But why would I be jogging in my school clothes? And with my backpack? I wouldn't. Okay, that option is definitely out.

Unfortunately, I don't have much time to think of any alternatives, because before I know it, the bus is turning around that curve, and when I glance anxiously out the window I can spot Sasuke's yellow flashy convertible driving right in front of us.

The driver stops the bus just as Sasuke's car pulls into the driveway. I quickly grab my backpack and head up to the front. The best I can do is attempt a daring duck-out maneuver and then sneak up behind Sasuke's car and act like I'm coming back from checking the mail or something.

So that's what I do. When the doors open right in front of my driveway, I bend down as low as I can, trying to avoid being seen in Sasuke's rearview mirror. The bus driver shoots me a strange look, but I hardly care at this point. If I have to choose between impressing a bus driver and impressing Sasuke Uchiha, forgive me, but I think I'd have to go with Sasuke every time.

The doors close behind me, and I stay low and drop behind a bush. I can't very well approach his car _right _after the bus leaves. That would be too obvious. So I wait a good five minutes and then casually saunter up to his driver-side door.

"Hey," I say in my best casual, just-out-for-a-leisurely-stroll-down-the-street voice.

Sasuke turns quickly upon hearing my voice. "Hey, I didn't see you come out of the house. Did you ride the bus?" he asks with one dark eyebrow raised.

I laugh nervously (and unfortunately, very _loudly_) and toss my hair back over my shoulder. "God, no." Then I throw in a snort for good measure. "I mean, who rides the bus after ninth grade? I was just taking a walk. You know, checking the mail and stuff."

Sasuke looks at me funny and points to the small slot in the front door of my house. "Isn't _that _your mailbox?"

Oh right, my mailbox is in the door. I reach up and tug nervously at my ear. "Yeees," I say slowly, drawing out the word to an unnatural length in a bid for more time. "Yes it is. But you know . . . um, sometimes the mailman delivers our mail to the neighbor and my mom sends me over to check. So that's what I was doing."

Nice save! It seems the whole lying thing gets easier with practice.

"Okay. Cool," Sasuke replies, but still looks like he doesn't believe my lie. Damn. "Want to get in?"

I nod and open the car door, tossing my bag into the backseat. "Are your parents' home?"

Sasuke shakes his head as he starts the engine and reverses out of my driveway but he turns to flash me quick smirk. "No, but I thought maybe we'd go out for something to eat. You know, like a real date."

A lump forms in my throat, and I do my best to swallow it. "A date?" As in out in public for everyone to see?

He looks over at me and smirks that heart-stopping smirk again. "Yeah. All we do is make out. Don't you want to go out and talk or hang out?"

No. Not especially, no.

"Um, I'm not super hungry," I respond hastily. "Let's just go back to your house." I'll admit there's more urgency in my voice than I would have liked. I know Sasuke can hear it too, because he gives me this look like he's not really buying the whole I'm-not-hungry thing and says, "Honestly, Sakura, what's the big deal if people know about us?"

I start chewing on my thumbnail, something I only do when I'm uncomfortable or nervous. What I really want to tell him is that I'm afraid. Afraid of getting too close. Afraid of him writing something about _me_ on the face of a locker. But mostly . . . I'm afraid of that feeling. That sinking feeling of hopeless heartbreak. The one I felt the very moment I walked in on Kiba and Ami at the Loft. And every moment after. The one I still sometimes feel when I lie in bed at night.

And I know that if I let him get closer, Sasuke could very well crush my heart if he wanted to, because what I feel with him is _way_ more than what I felt with Kiba. And I still haven't gotten over _that _one yet.

But I don't tell him that. I can't. Instead I shrug and say, "It's _not _a big deal."

"Obviously it is if you insist that we keep everything a secret and you refuse to even be seen in public with me." He says with narrowed dark eyes.

I don't respond. I really don't know what I would say if I did, so I just sit there and don't say anything. Sasuke turns the car onto the main road. "Look, Sakura," he says, his face completely serious. "I like you. I want to spend time with you. But you obviously have reservations about us."

_Us? _As in him and me? As in boyfriend-girlfriend? _No. _No, no, no, no, NO.

"Is this about Inuzuka?" Sasuke suddenly asks.

I turn my head and look out the window. I don't understand why we can't just go to his place, make out for a couple of hours, and be done with it. Why can't he be satisfied with that? I mean, seriously, what is this guy's problem? Isn't that supposed to be every man's dream? To hook up without any attachments? Without any complications?

_Without any locker spray painting!_

Sasuke reaches out and places his hand on my leg. I like the way it feels all tingly even though I still don't look at him. "Sakura," he says gently. "I would never do to you what Inuzuka did."

I can't contain myself any longer. The frustration is boiling over. I can't handle this good-guy, holier-than-Kiba act for another second. So I face him and go, "No, you'll just spray-paint my locker and be done with it!"

Sasuke is completely taken aback. I saw the slight surprise on his face before his face went blank. He even pulls the car over to the side of the road and throws the gear-shift into park. He looks at me, his eyes squinting against the afternoon sun, which is blazing down on us. "Do you really think I wrote that crap on Karin's locker?"

Okay, he's pissed. I can tell. And you didn't want an Uchiha to be pissed at you, or so I've heard. Maybe blurting that out wasn't such a good idea. But whatever, I'm pissed too. And I have a right to be. So I give him this expectant look. "Didn't you?"

Sasuke looks away with narrowed eyes, and I know that I've cornered him. He'll have to fess up and spill everything. He'll have to admit that he's not such a great guy after all. And that I was right to have reservations about dating him.

Then he says blankly, "No. I didn't."

"Yeah, right." I don't try to hide the fact that I don't believe him.

Sasuke doesn't respond to that. He simply shakes his head and goes, "This is why I hate high school and the idiots in high school."

Which is really pretty cryptic, if you ask me. Not to mention totally evasive. _Not to mention_, downright offensive to high school students. Not that I care about them right now. So I get right to the point and ask him, "You mean you _didn't _spray-paint that on Karin's locker after she tried to break up with you?"

"No!" Sasuke says in a rather annoyed tone and rolls his eyes. "And she didn't try to break up with me. I broke up with _her_."

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "You did?"

Sasuke nods, and I can tell by his expression that he's telling the truth, even if most of his expression conveys annoyance. "You can't believe everything Ami Watanabe pumps through the rumor mill, Sakura."

"Then who wrote it?" I immediately ask.

"I have no idea. If I had to take a guess, I would probably bet on Karin."

"Okay, that's ridiculous," I snap back without even thinking. "Why would Karin write something like that on her _own _locker?"

Sasuke throws his hands up in the air. Okay, I'm _definitely _annoying him. Too bad. "I don't know, but it makes the most sense."

My head is starting to hurt. "Why on earth does _that _make sense?"

"Think about it, Sakura. The last thing Karin wants people knowing is that I broke up with her. She's obsessed with stuff like that. All of _them _are."

Something about the way he pronounces the word _them _kind of mystifies me. Like they're part of some underground cult that he has nothing to do with. I mean, I know Sasuke is different than Karin and Ami, but I guess I never completely separated him from that group. Even after we'd started making out. In my mind, and I think most people's minds, the name Sasuke Uchiha just has an automatic affiliation with the popular clique.

I contemplate his logic. After a little while, it doesn't sound as crazy as it once did. "Let me get this straight. If she spray-paints her own locker, then her version of the story sounds more credible?"

Sasuke shrugs. "I suppose so. I don't know. It's so screwed up, I can hardly follow it. That's just the way she thinks."

Surprisingly, though, I _am _able to follow it. Maybe it's because I'm a girl. Or maybe it's because I spent the better half of my high school years studying Ami Watanabe and her entourage from afar. One thing I do know, the relief I feel right now is overwhelming. I have to restrain myself from jumping into Sasuke's lap and throwing my arms around his neck.

But as honest as _he's _been in the last ten minutes, _I'm _still harboring a very huge secret: the real reason why Hinata, Ino and Tenten can't know about us. I'm definitely not prepared to share that with Sasuke. So I tell him I guess I _am _still upset about Kiba and that's why I'm not quite ready to go public with our "relationship" yet.

He seems to understand, or if anything, he acts understanding. So we go back to his house. But we don't do what we normally do. Meaning we don't head straight into his room and start making out. In fact, we barely kiss at all.

Instead, we make some popcorn and order pizzas, and then we curl up on the couch in his upstairs den and watch a movie on one of the dozen flat-screen TVs owned by the Uchiha family. And I have to admit, right now, it feels even better than kissing.

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	21. Beware of the Turkey Chili

**Disclaimer-** I do not own the characters as they belong to kishimoto-san, nor the plot as it belongs to Jessica Brody, except for a few tweaking's here and there.

**Pairing-**SasuSaku(main) / Ino-Tenten-Hinata-Sakura friendship

**note-** okay, so this awesome plot DOES NOT belong to me! Except for the extra add-ons and all those extended bits. I have no rights to this brilliant masterpiece; the credit goes to Jessica Brody, the original author. I just want people to know about this awesome book, so I'm writing it- Naruto style! Tell me what you think of it!

_Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Review._

_Now, on with the story!_

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**The Karma Club**

_written by- fourthfireshadow_

**Chapter **_21-_** Beware **_of _**the **_Turkey _**Chili**

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_The next Monday _I'm sitting in the school's auditorium waiting for the auditions for _Little Women _to begin. Obviously, it's not _me _who's auditioning. Especially after that whole I'm-just-getting-the-mail-from- the neighbor's-house performance on Friday. Ino is trying out for the lead. It's a really big deal for her. Because if she gets the part, there's a good chance she'll go on to get a huge scholarship to KonohaU's drama program. I told her I'd come to the auditions for moral support. Plus, I've been feeling pretty guilty lately with all the lying I've had to do every time I hang out with Sasuke. So I was partially just trying to relieve my guilt.

It's a little weird now that Sasuke and I are kind of a couple. I made him swear to keep us a secret at least for another few weeks. And then after that, I'm not really sure.

I know that each and every day I don't tell my friends about him, I'm digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole. Because when I do eventually tell them, it will have been one more day that I lied to them. A betrayal stacked on top of more betrayal. But I _can't _tell them. They wouldn't understand. I don't even know if _I _understand what's happening yet.

On a brighter note, we finally found out what happened to Kankuro after our revenge scheme. A source (the watch man) had spilled on that day to a local magazine that Kankuro was found in his apartment unconscious on his apartment floor; with clothes strewn around everywhere and that each article of clothing had a big red A imprinted on it. The article was everywhere, and suffice to say, he wasn't about to go out anytime soon, with the speculations running around from '_a murderer is after him!_' to '_its black magic_.' To '_what kind of security does this kid have if a bunch of children could break in! Teenagers these days..._' We took personal offence to the last one, since the prank was _not _done by children, thank you very much!

We also heard from the rumor mills that apparently Kankuro's father was so embarrassed by this public humiliation that he didn't allow Kankuro to buy new clothes for at least a week, as punishment for not guarding his house properly, or something equally idiotic.

I honestly thought that was a bit harsh, seeing that now Kankuro can't go anywhere without risking more of his reputation, but—his loss, our gain. And like that, our plans came to an end.

Kurenai-sensei, the director of the drama department, gets onstage and welcomes everyone. I glance around the auditorium, looking for Ino, but she's nowhere to be seen. I guess she could be hiding out backstage, running through her lines one final time before it's her turn to audition.

It isn't until Kurenai-sensei tells everyone trying out for the role of Jo to sit in the front row so that he can call them up one by one that I realize something is wrong. Because Ino is still not there.

I send her a quick text message but get no response. So I decide to go looking for her.

First I check her seventh-period classroom, thinking maybe she got caught up in a conversation with her teacher and lost track of time. But the room is empty. Then I check the hallway around her locker. Still nothing. With each minute that passes, I grow more worried. If she doesn't get her butt down to that auditorium in the next half hour, she can kiss the part goodbye. Not to mention her chance at that KonohaU drama scholarship. It's not like Ino to be careless and irresponsible. Especially about something that means so much to her.

I stick my head back in the auditorium to see if she snuck in at the last minute, but there's still no sign of her.

Okay, now I'm really worried. I mean, what if something truly bad happened to her? What if she fell down the stairs, got knocked unconscious, and was hauled off in an ambulance? Or maybe she was kidnapped! She was making her way down the hall toward the auditorium, and out of nowhere someone stepped out from behind a locker, threw a bag over her head, and tossed her into the back of a van!

I've managed to get myself totally riled up now, and I'm starting to panic. I look helplessly down the first-floor hallway, trying to decide which direction to go in next, and then I see two girls coming out of the bathroom and one of them is saying, "Oh, God, that's disgusting. I mean, if you're going to be bulimic and vomit your brains out, don't do it at school, where everyone can hear you."

And instantly I know that Ino is in there.

I hurry into the bathroom and check under each of the stalls. In the very last one, coincidentally the same stall where I overheard the news about Karin's locker graffiti, I see Ino's back. She's kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet. And she's puking.

It's funny; I never thought Ino would be the kind of girl who gets stage fright. She's always so confident and composed up there. Like she was born to be on the stage.

"Ino?" I ask, softly tapping on the stall door.

"Saks? Is that you?" she calls from the other side. And her voice sounds like she's been waiting a lifetime for me to come find her.

I hear a faint shuffling sound, and the door unlocks. I push it open, step inside, and close the door behind me. Ino is still on the floor, her knees curled up to her chin. To be honest, she looks god-awful. But I don't mention that. The worst thing you can do when someone is sick is to tell them that they look sick. So instead I say, "What's the matter? Are you nervous?"

Ino shakes her head, and I can see beads of sweat appearing across her forehead. "No. I don't know what's happening. I started feeling sick during seventh period. So I grabbed the pass, ran to the bathroom, and started throwing up. I've been here ever since."

I glance down at the floor and see Gai-sensei's infamous hall pass made out of an actual toilet seat. Whoever decided to give the teachers creative freedom when choosing their hall passes needs to be severely punished.

"Was it something you ate?" I ask, crouching down next to her and pushing her damp hair away from her forehead.

She considers this. "I guess it could be. I can't remember ever feeling this sick."

"Maybe it was sabotage. Maybe one of the other girls auditioning for the lead poisoned you!" My mind races with thoughts of conspiracy.

Ino shakes her head. "I don't think so. I mean, no one gave me anything to eat. I just ordered my usual turkey chili in the cafeteria."

And then, upon hearing her own voice say the words _turkey chili_, Ino's eyes grow really big, she covers her mouth with her hand, and turns back to the toilet. I look away. Less out of wanting to give her privacy and more just wanting to keep myself from joining her puke fest in the next stall.

I had food poisoning once in the tenth grade, and I know from experience that the thought of whatever it was that made you sick will trigger another wave of nausea. This means Ino's turkey chili was definitely the culprit. But why would anyone poison the chili? Or maybe it wasn't poisoned. Maybe it was made with bad meat today. I wouldn't be surprised with the suspicious stuff that goes on in that kitchen. In fact, I'm surprised Ino takes her chances with cafeteria food at all.

Ino pulls her knees back up to her chest and rests her forehead against them. She looks like she's ready to collapse at any minute, and I wonder if I should call an ambulance or something. "Do you remember anything unusual today about the . . . um . . . the . . . you know what?" I ask, avoiding any mention of the c-word.

Ino shakes her head. "No, it looked fine. But it's not like I inspect my food before I eat it."

I rack my brain for another possible answer.

"There was a new woman working in the cafeteria," Ino says. "But I doubt that had anything to do with it."

"I guess you never

know. If she was new, it's possible she didn't know what she was doing. Maybe she messed it up."

I see tears well up in Ino's eyes. And I know she's not crying about the chili.

"Can you still audition?" I ask hopefully. "I'm sure if you sneak in there right now, Kurenai-sensei will hardly even notice."

Ino sniffles and wipes her nose against her jeans. "No. There's no way. I've thrown up every three minutes for the past hour. And my audition monologue is four minutes long."

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Soon after, I make a decision to call Ino's mom, and she comes to pick us up. Ino is diagnosed by her mother as having just an everyday case of food poisoning, and the only thing you can do about it is allow your body to purge all remnants of the poison from your system. Sometimes that takes a few hours, sometimes as much as a few days.

Ino doesn't talk the whole ride home. She sits in the front seat, holding the plastic shopping bag that her mom brought for her in case she gets sick in the car, and stares out the window. I can tell she's thinking about KonohaU and how one stupid bowl of chili has probably blown her chances of going.

Ino's mom drops me off at home, and I promise Ino I'll call her later tonight to check up on her. When I get inside the house, I find it eerily empty. I check my watch. It's four o'clock. At this time, someone is almost always home. Emily, my mom, the housekeeper even. But it's totally quiet. Like an emergency evacuation has been ordered and no one told me.

I search everywhere for something that might clue me in to my family's whereabouts, but there's nothing. Not even a note taped to the fridge.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal and take a seat on the couch. I prop my feet up on the coffee table and turn on the TV. It's not every day that I have this place to myself, so I guess I might as well make the most of it.

I'm barely two bites into my cereal when the phone rings. For a minute, I consider not answering it because it's never for me anyway. My friends always call me on my cell phone. But given the unusual absence of people around here, I decide to pick it up.

"Hello?" I say, swallowing a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

"Sakura? It's Dad."

"Hi, Dad," I say, relaxing back against the couch. "If you're calling for Mom, she's not here. No one is. It's really weird actually."

"Sakura," he says again, and this time there's an urgency in his tone that makes my heart beat faster.

"Yeah," I say cautiously.

"Listen," he begins, his voice on edge. "I need you to come down to the hospital."

Oh, no. Not another one of _these _phone calls. What on earth could have happened this time? First Tenten calls me from the police station, and now my dad is calling me from the hospital?

"Why?" I jump up to my feet, almost spilling my cereal. "What happened? Is it Mom? Is she okay?"

"Your mom's fine," my dad assures me.

I sigh loudly. Thank God. But then I ask, "Who is it?"

The answer nearly knocks me off my feet.

"Your sister's been in an accident."

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**Extra!-** okay, I have this really _really_ weird urge to write a story in format of IM's, emails, notes and the like. You know, like TheCherryOnTop by ohwhatsherface (great story, bytheway. A must read!) Or The Year Of Secret Assignments by Jaclyn Moriarty. _Anyway, _if anyone wants to (I mean anyone who has time) write a story like that or collab a story like it, please PM me! I think it'll be fun, plus those kinds of stories are _always_ interesting. It's like an excuse to write the craziest things ever, and be praised for it!

So please please _please_ PM if you're interested!

**Thanks to-** YuYu99, _witchwinx_, aria206, _sasuke14_, Melodi Moon, _silver teardrops 717_, tortuejeanne13, _OpenPervert-Chan_, Hay Gurl Hay, _xXCobaltFlameXx_, SmexyGenius and the anonymous guests.

For your awesome and encouraging reviews for the previous chapters! And thank you to those who has favorited or is following the story! Much appreciated and much thanks!

**Melodi Moon** and **aria206** had the same question—if Sakura had forgotten the karma club notebook in the bus or not. Now see, if I revealed that, then the suspense is all gone, isn't it? ;) don't worry, it'll all be revealed soon enough!

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